4 


The 
COMMON  LAW 


She  sat  at  the  piano,  running  her  fingers  lightly  over  the  keyboard." 

[Page  48.] 


The 

Common  Law 


BY 

ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

CHARLES  DANA  GIBSON 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS 


Copyright,  1910, 1911,  by  International  Magazine  Company 


Published  August, 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO 
CHARLES    DANA   GIBSON 

A  FKIEND   OP  MANY  TEAKS 


912813 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

"She  sat  at  the  piano,  running  her  fingers  lightly  over  the  key 
board"       Frontispiece 

*' There  was  a  long,  brisk,  decisive  ring  at  the  door"        ...  3 

'"Now,  Miss  West,'  he  said  decisively" 13 

"'I  know  perfectly  well  that  this  isn't  right,'  she  said"  ...  31 

"'What's  the  matter  with  it,  then?'" 40 

"For  a  long  while  she  sat,  her  cheek  resting  on  one  palm,  looking 

fixedly  into  space" 65 

"Neville  stood  stock-still  before  the  canvas" 81 

"When  he  first  tried  to  ring  her  up  the  wire  was  busy"  ...  83 

"'Kelly,  dear,  are  you  unhappy?'" 90 

"He  picked  up  a  bit  of  white  chalk  .  .  .  and  traced  on  the  floor 

the  outline  of  her  shoes" 93 

" 'I  mil  call  you  a  god  if  I  like!'" 96 

"'If  she's  as  much  of  a  winner  as  all  that,'  began  Cameron  with 

decision,  '  I  want  to  meet  her  immediately '"      .        .        .  109 

"'Come  on,  Alice,  if  you're  going  to  scrub  before  luncheon'"        .  116 

" ' I  know  it  is  you.     Is  it?'" 125 

"A  smartly  dressed  and  very  confident  drummer"   ....  136 

"Valerie  sat  cross-legged  on  the  grass  .  .  .  scribbling  away"        .  145 

"'How  well  you  look!' he  exclaimed" 149 

"Querida  had  laughed  .  .  .  and  returned  compliment  for  com 
pliment"    175 

"'Me  lord,  the  taxi  waits!"' 179 

Mazie  Gray 183 

vii 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

•    mi^^**^^^^f^i^*m^m*^*mmammmm^m*m*mmmmmmfm^^mmmmmmm*^^*mi^Hm^mmt*BffmmBnmmHmmimmmtmt  iiniji  • 

PAQ3 

44  And  the  last  rose  dropped  from  her  hand"      ....     188-189 

"'How  perfectly  horrid  you  can  be!' she  exclaimed"       .       .       .  199 

"She  began  by  balancing  her  check  book" 224 

"  He  stood  before  it,  searching  in  it  for  any  hint  of  that  elusive  and 

mysterious  something" 229 

* '  I  shall  have  need  of  friends,'  she  said  half  to  herself"          .        .  245 

"'Don't  do  it,  Valerie!'" 247 

"Ogilvy  stood  looking  sentimentally  at  the  two  young  girls"         .  249 
"Valerie's  lips  trembled  on  the  edge  of  a  smile  as  she  bent  lower 

over  her  sewing" 286 

"She  and  Rita  dined  with  him  once  or  twice" 293 

"Tall,  transparently  pale,  negative  hi  character"      ....  297 
"  Her  poise,  her  unconsciousness,  the  whining  simplicity  of  her  man 
ner  were  noticed  everywhere"       •  307 

" '  Where  do  you  keep  those  pretty  models,  Louis? '  he  demanded " .  315 
"'Your — profession — must  be  an  exceedingly  interesting  one,'  said 

Lily" 326 

"  It  was  a  large,  thick,  dark  book,  and  weighed  nearly  four  pounds"  338 

The  Countess  d'Enver 347 

"'May  I  sit  here  with  you  until  she  arrives?     I  am  Stephanie 

Swift'" 355 

"'John,  you  don't  look  very  well,' said  Valerie"       ....  359 
"'It  is  very  beautiful,  Louis,'  said  his  mother,  with  a  smile  of 

pride" 387 

"'You  are  not  happy,  Louis'" 390 

"'What  have  you  been  saying  to  your  mother?'  he  asked"    .        .  404  ' 
"'If  you'll  place  a  lump  of  sugar  on  my  nose,  and  say  "when,"  I'll 

perform'" 409 

"And  what  happier  company  for  her  than  her  thoughts — what 

tenderer  companionship  than  her  memories?"    .        .        .        .413 
"She  prowled  around  the  library,  luxuriously,  dipping  into  invit 
ing  volumes" 415 

'"Miss  West!'  he  exclaimed.     'How  on  earth  did  you  ever  find 

your  way  into  my  woods?'" 417 

viii 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


"Dearest,'  he  whispered,  putting  his  arm  around  her,  'you  must 

come  with  us'"        ..........     427 

"Well,  Louis,  what  do  you  know  about  this?'"       ....     430 

"The  parrot  greeted  her,  flapping  his  brilliant  wings  and  shrieking 

from  his  perch"        ..........     449 

'"And  they  —  the  majority  of  them  —  are,  after  all,  just  men'"      .     458 
'His  thoughts  were  mostly  centred  on  Valerie"        .       .       .       .458 

"Ogilvy  .  .  .  began  a  lively  fencing  bout  with  an  imaginary 

adversary"        ...........     47£ 

"Then  Rita  came  silently  on  sandalled  feet  to  stand  behind  him 

and  look  at  what  he  had  done"     .        .        .        .        .        .        .     48S 

"'  You'd  better  understand,  Kelly,  that  Rita  Tevis  is  as  well  born 

as  I  am'"  ............     491 

"She  knelt  down  beside  the  bed  and  .  .  .  said  whatever  prayer 

she  had  in  mind"     ..........     507 

"She  was  longer  over  her  hair  .  .  .  gathering  it  and  bringing  it 

under  discipline"      ..........     510 

"'Yes,'  she  said,  'it  is  really  great'"   .......     fifl 

*3'I  am  scared  blue.  That's  why  I'm  holding  on  to  your  hand  so 

desperately'"    ...  .     581 


THE  COMMON  LAW 


CHAPTER    I 

THERE  was  a  long,  brisk,  decisive  ring  at  the  door. 
He  continued  working.  After  an  interval  the  bell  rang 
again,  briefly,  as  though  the  light  touch  on  the  electric 
button  had  lost  its  assurance. 

"  Somebody's  confidence  has  departed,"  he  thought 
to  himself,  busy  with  a  lead-weighted  string  and  a 
stick  of  soft  charcoal  wrapped  in  silver  foil.  For  a 
few  moments  he  continued  working,  not  inclined  to  trou 
ble  himself  to  answer  the  door,  but  the  hesitating  tim 
idity  of  a  third  appeal  amused  him,  and  he  walked  out 
into  the  hallway  and  opened  the  door.  In  the  dim 
light  a  departing  figure  turned  from  the  stairway : 

"  Do  you  wish  a  model?  "  she  asked  in  an  unsteady 
voice. 

"  No,"  he  said,  vexed. 

"  Then — I  beg  your  pardon  for  disturbing 
you " 

"Who  gave  you  my  name?"  he  demanded. 

"  Why— nobody " 

"  Who  sent  you  to  me?    Didn't  anybody  send  you?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

« I_Walked  in." 

There  was  a  scarcely  perceptible  pause;  then  she 
turned  away  in  the  dim  light  of  the  corridor. 

1 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


s*  You  k-iovV  he  said,  "  models  are  not  supposed 
to  come  here  unless  sent  for.  It  isn't  done  in  this  build- 
li?^.':  ije  poiaced  to  a  black  and  white  sign  on  his  door 
which  bore  the  words  :  "  No  Admittance." 

"  I  am  very  sorry.     I  didn't  understand — 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right ;  only,  I  don't  see  how  you  got 
up  here  at  all.  Didn't  the  elevator  boy  question  you? 
It's  his  business." 

"  I  didn't  come  up  on  the  elevator." 

"  You  didn't  walk  up  !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Twelve  stories !  " 

"  Both  elevators  happened  to  be  in  service.  Besides, 
I  was  not  quite  certain  that  models  were  expected  to  use 
the  elevators." 

"  Good  Lord ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  must  have 
wanted  an  engagement  pretty  badly." 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

He  stared :  "  I  suppose  you  do,  still." 

"  If  you  would  care  to  try  me." 

"  I'll  take  your  name  and  address,  anyhow.  Twelve 
flights !  For  the  love  of — oh,  come  in  anyway  and 
rest." 

It  was  dusky  in  the  private  hallway  through  which 
he  preceded  her,  but  there  was  light  enough  in  the  great 
studio.  Through  the  vast  sheets  of  glass  fleecy  clouds 
showed  blue  sky  between.  The  morning  was  clearing. 

He  went  over  to  an  ornate  Louis  XV  table,  picked 
up  a  note  book,  motioned  her  to  be  seated,  dropped  into  a 
chair  himself,  and  began  to  sharpen  a  pencil.  As  yet  he 
had  scarcely  glanced  at  her,  and  now,  while  he  leisurely 
shaved  the  cedar  and  scraped  the  lead  to  a  point,  he 
absent-mindedly  and  good-humouredly  admonished  her: 


There  was  a  long,  brisk,  decisive  ring  at  the  door.1 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  You  models  have  your  own  guild,  your  club,  your 
regular  routine,  and  it  would  make  it  much  easier  for 
us  if  you'd  all  register  and  quietly  wait  until  we  send 
for  you. 

"  You  see  we  painters  know  what  we  want  and  we 
know  where  to  apply  for  it.  But  if  you  all  go  wander 
ing  over  studio  buildings  in  search  of  engagements,  we 
won't  have  any  leisure  to  employ  you  because  it  will  take 
all  our  time  to  answer  the  bell.  And  it  will  end  by  our 
not  answering  it  at  all.  And  that's  why  it  is  fit  and 
proper  for  good  little  models  to  remain  chez  eux" 

He  had  achieved  a  point  to  his  pencil.  Now  he 
opened  his  model  book,  looked  up  at  her  with  his  absent 
smile,  and  remained  looking. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  remove  your  veil  ?  " 

"  Oh — I  beg  your  pardon !  "  Slender  gloved  fingers 
flew  up,  were  nervously  busy  a  moment.  She  removed 
her  veil  and  sat  as  though  awaiting  his  comment.  None 
came. 

After  a  moment's  pause  she  said :  "  Did  you  wish — 
my  name  and  address  ?  " 

He  nodded,  still  looking  intently  at  her. 

"  Miss  West,"  she  said,  calmly.     He  wrote  it  down. 

"  Is  that  all?    Just  '  Miss  West '  ?  " 

"  Valerie  West — if  that  is  custom — necessary." 

He  wrote  "  Valerie  West  " ;  and,  as  she  gave  it  to 
him,  he  noted  her  address. 

"  Head  and  shoulders  ?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  Yes,"  very  confidently. 

"Figure?" 

"  Yes," — less  confidently. 

"  Draped  or  undraped?  " 

When  he  looked  up  again,  for  an  instant  he  thought 
5 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


her  skin  even  whiter  than  it  had  been ;  perhaps  not,  for, 
except  the  vivid  lips  and  a  carnation  tint  in  the  cheeks, 
the  snowy  beauty  of  her  face  and  neck  had  already  pre 
occupied  him. 

"Do  you  pose  undraped?  "  he  repeated,  interested. 

"  I — expect  to  do — what  is — required  of — models." 

"  Sensible,"  he  commented,  noting  the  detail  in  his 
book.  "  Now,  Miss  West,  for  whom  have  you  recently 
posed?" 

And,  as  she  made  no  reply,  he  looked  up  amiably, 
balancing  his  pencil  in  his  hand  and  repeating  the 
question. 

"Is  it  necessary  to — tell  you?" 

"  Not  at  all.  One  usually  asks  that  question,  prob 
ably  because  you  models  are  always  so  everlastingly 
anxious  to  tell  us — particularly  when  the  men  for  whom 
you  have  posed  are  more  famous  than  the  poor  devil 
who  offers  you  an  engagement." 

There  was  something  very  good  humoured  in  his 
smile,  and  she  strove  to  smile,  too,  but  her  calmness  was 
now  all  forced,  and  her  heart  was  beating  very  fast,  and 
her  black-gloved  fingers  were  closing  and  doubling  till 
the  hands  that  rested  on  the  arms  of  the  gilded  antique 
chair  lay  tightly  clenched. 

He  was  leisurely  writing  in  his  note  book  under  her 
name: 

"  Height,  medium ;  eyes,  a  dark  brown ;  hair,  thick, 
lustrous,  and  brown;  head,  unusually  beautiful;  throat 
and  neck,  perfect — 

He  stopped  writing  and  lifted  his  eyes: 

"  How  much  of  your  time  is  taken  ahead,  I  won 
der?  " 

"What?" 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"How  many  engagements  have  you?  Is  your  time 
all  cut  up — as  I  fancy  it  is  ?  " 

"  N-no." 

"  Could  you  give  me  what  time  I  might  require  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  What  I  mean,  Miss  West,  is  this :  suppose  that 
your  figure  is  what  I  have  an  idea  it  is ;  could  you  give 
me  a  lot  of  time  ahead?  " 

She  remained  silent  so  long  that  he  had  started  to 
write,  "  probably  unreliable,"  under  his  notes ;  but,  as 
his  pencil  began  to  move,  her  lips  unclosed  with  a  low, 
breathless  sound  that  became  a  ghost  of  a  voice : 

"  I  will  do  what  you  require  of  me.  I  meant  to 
answer." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  in  a  position  to  make  a 
time  contract  with  me? — provided  you  prove  to  be  what 
I  need?" 

She  nodded  uncertainly. 

"  I'm  beginning  the  ceiling,  lunettes,  and  panels  for 
the  Byzantine  Theatre,"  he  added,  sternly  stroking  his 
short  mustache,  "  and  under  those  circumstances  I  sup 
pose  you  know  what  a  contract  between  us  means." 

She  nodded  again,  but  in  her  eyes  was  bewilderment, 
and  in  her  heart,  fear. 

"  Yes,"  she  managed  to  say,  "  I  think  I  understand." 

"  Very  well.  I  merely  want  to  say  that  a  model 
threw  me  down  hard  in  the  very  middle  of  the  Bimming- 
ton's  ball-room.  Max  Schindler  put  on  a  show,  and  she 
put  for  the  spot-light.  She'd  better  stay  put,"  he 
added  grimly :  "  she'll  never  have  another  chance  in  your 
guild." 

Then  the  frown  vanished,  and  the  exceedingly  en 
gaging  smile  glimmered  in  his  eyes: 

7 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  You  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing  as  that  to  me,"  he 
added;  "would  you,  Miss  West?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  not  clearly  comprehending 
the  enormity  of  the  Schindler  recruit's  behaviour. 

"  And  you'll  stand  by  me  if  our  engagement  goes 
through?" 

«  Yes,  I— will  try  to." 

"  Good  business !  Now,  if  you  really  are  what  I 
have  an  idea  you  are,  I'll  know  pretty  quick  whether  I 
can  use  you  for  the  Byzantine  job."  He  rose,  walked 
over  to  a  pair  of  closed  folding  doors  and  opened  them. 
"  You  can  undress  in  there,"  he  said.  "  I  think  you  will 
find  everything  you  need." 

For  a  second  she  sat  rigid,  her  black-gloved  hands 
doubled,  her  eyes  fastened  on  him  as  though  fascinated. 
He  had  already  turned  and  sauntered  over  to  one  of  sev 
eral  easels  where  he  picked  up  the  lump  of  charcoal  in 
its  silver  foil. 

The  colour  began  to  come  back  into  her  face — 
swifter,  more  swiftly :  the  vast  blank  window  with  its 
amber  curtains  stared  at  her ;  she  lifted  her  tragic  gaze 
and  saw  the  sheet  of  glass  above  swimming  in  crystal 
light.  Through  it  clouds  were  dissolving  in  the  blu 
est  of  skies ;  against  it  a  spiderweb  of  pendant  cords 
drooped  from  the  high  ceiling ;  and  she  saw  the  looming 
mystery  of  huge  canvases  beside  which  stepladders 
rose  surmounted  by  little  crow's-nests  where  the  grace 
ful  oval  of  palettes  curved,  tinted  with  scraped  bril 
liancy. 

"  What  a  dreamer  you  are !  "  he  called  across  the 
studio  to  her.  "  The  light  is  fine,  now.  Hadn't  we  bet 
ter  take  advantage  of  it  ?  " 

She  managed  to  find  her  footing;  contrived  to  rise, 
8 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


to  move  with  apparent  self-possession  toward  the  fold 
ing  doors. 

"  Better  hurry,"  he  said,  pleasantly.  "  If  you're 
what  I  need  we  might  start  things  now.  I  am  all  ready 
for  the  sort  of  figure  I  expect  you  have." 

She  stepped  inside  the  room  and  became  desperately 
busy  for  a  moment  trying  to  close  the  doors ;  but  either 
her  hands  had  suddenly  become  powerless  or  they  shook 
too  much ;  and  when  he  turned,  almost  impatiently,  from 
his  easel  to  see  what  all  that  rattling  meant,  she  shrank 
hastily  aside  into  the  room  beyond,  keeping  out  of 
his  view. 

The  room  was  charming — not  like  the  studio,  but 
modern  and  fresh  and  dainty  with  chintz  and  flowered 
wall-paper  and  the  graceful  white  furniture  of  a  bed 
room.  There  was  a  flowered  screen  there,  too.  Behind 
it  stood  a  chair,  and  onto  this  she  sank,  laid  her  hands 
for  an  instant  against  her  burning  face,  then  stooped 
and,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  was  about,  began  to 
untie  her  patent-leather  shoes. 

He  remained  standing  at  his  easel,  very  busy  with 
his  string  and  lump  of  charcoal;  but  after  a  while  it 
occurred  to  him  that  she  was  taking  an  annoyingly  long 
time  about  a  simple  matter. 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  trouble?  "  he  called.  "  Do 
you  realise  you've  been  in  there  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer.  A  second  later  he  thought  he 
heard  an  indistinct  sound — and  it  disquieted  him. 

"Miss  West?" 

There  was  no  reply. 

Impatient,  a  little  disturbed,  he  walked  across  to  the 
folding  doors;  and  the  same  low,  suppressed  sound 
caught  his  ear. 

9 


THE   COMMON   L'AW 


"  What  in  the  name  of—  ''  he  began,  walking  into 
the  room ;  and  halted,  amazed. 

She  sat  all  huddled  together  behind  the  screen,  partly 
undressed,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands ;  and  between 
the  slender  fingers  tears  ran  down  brightly. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?  "  he  asked,  anxiously. 

After  a  moment  she  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  Then — what  in  the  name  of  Mike " 

"  P-please  forgive  me.  I — I  will  be  ready  in  a 
m-moment — if  you  wouldn't  mind  going  out " 

"  Are  you  ill?     Answer  me?  " 

"  N-no." 

"  Has  anything  disturbed  you  so  that  you  don't  feel 
up  to  posing  to-day  ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  I — am — almost  ready — if  you  will  go 
out " 

He  considered  her,  uneasy  and  perplexed.    Then  : 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  briefly.  "  Take  your  own  time, 
Miss  West." 

At  his  easel,  fussing  with  yard-stick  and  crayon,  he 
began  to  square  off  his  canvas,  muttering  to  himself: 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  that  girl  ?  Nice 
moment  to  nurse  secret  sorrows  or  blighted  affections. 
There's  always  something  wrong  with  the  best  lookers. 
.  .  .  And  she  is  a  real  beauty — or  I  miss  my  guess." 
He  went  on  ruling  off,  measuring,  grumbling,  until 
slowly  there  came  over  him  the  sense  of  the  nearness  of 
another  person.  He  had  not  heard  her  enter,  but  he 
turned  around,  knowing  she  was  there. 

She  stood  silent,  motionless,  as  though  motion  terri 
fied  her  and  inertia  were  salvation.  Her  dark  hair  rip 
pled  to  her  waist;  her  white  arms  hung  limp,  yet  the 
fingers  had  curled  till  every  delicate  nail  was  pressed 

10 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


deep  into  the  pink  palm.  She  was  trying  to  look  at 
him.  Her  face  was  as  white  as  a  flower. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  under  his  breath,  "  you're 
practically  faultless.  I  suppose  you  realise  it !  " 

A  scarcely  perceptible  shiver  passed  over  her  entire 
body,  then,  as  he  stepped  back,  his  keen  artist's  gaze 
narrowing,  there  stole  over  her  a  delicate  flush,  faintly 
staining  her  from  brow  to  ankle,  transfiguring  the  pal- 
lour  exquisitely,  enchantingly.  And  her  small  head 
drooped  forward,  shadowed  by  her  hair. 

"  You're  what  I  want,"  he  said.  "  You're  about 
everything  I  require  in  colour  and  form  and  texture." 

She  neither  spoke  nor  moved  as  much  as  an  eyelash. 

"  Look  here,  Miss  West,"  he  said  in  a  slightly  excited 
voice,  "  let's  go  about  this  thing  intelligently."  He 
swung  another  easel  on  its  rollers,  displaying  a  sketch 
in  soft,  brilliant  colours — a  multitude  of  figures  amid 
a  swirl  of  sunset-tinted  clouds  and  patches  of  azure  sky. 

"  You're  intelligent,"  he  went  on  with  animation, — 
46 1  saw  that — somehow  or  other — though  you  haven't 
said  very  much."  He  laughed,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the 
painted  canvas  beside  him: 

"  You're  a  model,  and  it's  not  necessary  to  inform 
you  that  this  is  only  a  preliminary  sketch.  Your  ex 
perience  tells  you  that.  But  it  is  necessary  to  tell  you 
that  it's  the  final  composition.  I've  decided  on  this 
-arrangement  for  the  ceiling.  You  see  for  yourself  that 
you're  perfectly  fitted  to  stand  or  sit  for  all  these  float 
ing,  drifting,  cloud-cradled  goddesses.  You're  an  in 
spiration  in  yourself — for  the  perfections  of  Olympus  !  " 
he  added,  laughing,  "  and  that's  no  idle  compliment.  But 
of  course  other  artists  have  often  told  you  this  before — 
-as  though  you  didn't  have  eyes  of  your  own !  And  beau- 

11 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


tiful  ones  at  that !  "  He  laughed  again,  turned  and 
dragged  a  two-storied  model-stand  across  the  floor, 
tossed  up  one  or  two  silk  cushions,  and  nodded  to 
her. 

"  Don't  be  afraid ;  it's  rickety  but  safe.  It  will  hold 
us  both.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

As  in  a  dream  she  set  one  little  bare  foot  on  the  steps, 
mounted,  balancing  with  arms  extended  and  the  tips  of 
her  fingers  resting  on  his  outstretched  hand. 

Standing  on  the  steps  he  arranged  the  cushions,  told 
her  where  to  be  seated,  how  to  recline,  placed  the  wedges 
and  blocks  to  support  her  feet,  chalked  the  bases,  marked 
positions  with  arrows,  and  wedged  and  blocked  up  her 
elbow.  Then  he  threw  over  her  a  soft,  white,  wool  robe, 
swathing  her  from  throat  to  feet,  descended  the  steps, 
touched  an  electric  bell,  and  picking  up  a  huge  clean 
palette  began  to  squeeze  out  coils  of  colour  from  a  dozen 
plump  tubes. 

Presently  a  short,  squarely  built  man  entered.  He 
wore  a  blue  jumper;  there  were  traces  of  paint  on  it,  on 
his  large  square  hands,  on  his  square,  serious  face. 

"O'Hara?" 

"Sorr?" 

"  We're  going  to  begin  now! — thank  Heaven.  So 
if  you'll  be  kind  enough  to  help  move  forward  the  ceil 
ing  canvas " 

O'Hara  glanced  up  carelessly  at  the  swathed  and 
motionless  figure  above,  then  calmly  spat  upon  his  hands 
and  laid  hold  of  one  side  of  the  huge  canvas  indicated. 
The  painter  took  the  other  side. 

"  Now,  O'Hara,  careful !  Back  off  a  little ! — don't 
let  it  sway !  There — that's  where  I  want  it.  Get  a 
ladder  and  clamp  the  tops.  Pitch  it  a  little  forward 

12 


"Now,  Miss  West,'  he  said  decisively." 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


— more ! — stop !  Fix  those  pully  ropes  ;  I'll  make  things 
snug  below." 

For  ten  minutes  they  worked  deftly,  rapidly,  mak 
ing  fast  the  great  blank  canvas  which  had  been  squared 
and  set  with  an  enormous  oval  in  heavy  outline. 

From  her  lofty  eyrie  she  looked  down  at  them  as  in 
a  dream  while  they  shifted  other  enormous  framed  can 
vases  and  settled  the  oval  one  into  place.  Everything 
below  seemed  to  be  on  rubber  wheels  or  casters,  easels, 
stepladders,  colour  cabinets,  even  the  great  base  where 
the  oval  set  canvas  rested. 

She  looked  up  at  the  blue  sky.  Sparrows  dropped 
out  of  the  brilliant  void  into  unseen  canons  far  below 
from  whence  came  the  softened  roar  of  traffic.  North 
ward  the  city  spread  away  between  its  rivers,  glittering 
under  the  early  April  sun ;  the  Park  lay  like  a  grey  and 
green  map  set  with  the  irregular  silver  of  water ;  be 
yond,  the  huge  unfinished  cathedral  loomed  dark  against 
the  big  white  hospital  of  St.  Luke ;  farther  still  a  lilac- 
tinted  haze  hung  along  the  edges  of  the  Bronx. 

"  All  right,  O'Hara.  Much  obliged.  I  won't  need 
you  again." 

"  Very  good,  Sorr." 

The  short,  broad  Irishman  went  out  with  another 
incurious  glance  aloft,  and  closed  the  outer  door. 

High  up  on  her  perch  she  watched  the  man  below. 
He  calmly  removed  coat  and  waistcoat,  pulled  a  paint 
er's  linen  blouse  over  his  curly  head,  lighted  a  cigarette, 
picked  up  his  palette,  fastened  a  tin  cup  to  the  edge, 
filled  it  from  a  bottle,  took  a  handful  of  brushes  and  a 
bunch  of  cheese  cloth,  and  began  to  climb  up  a  steplad- 
der  opposite  her,  lugging  his  sketch  in  the  other  hand. 

15 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


He  fastened  the  little  sketch  to  an  upright  and  stood 
on  the  ladder  halfway  up,  one  leg  higher  than  the 
other. 

"  Now,  Miss  West,"  he  said  decisively. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  fear  again  leaped  through 
her  like  a  flame,  burning  her  face  as  she  let  slip  the 
white  wool  robe. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  Don't  move  while  I'm  draw 
ing  unless  you  have  to." 

She  could  see  him  working.  He  seemed  to  be  draw 
ing  with  a  brush,  rapidly,  and  with  a  kind  of  assur 
ance  that  appeared  almost  careless. 

At  first  she  could  make  out  little  of  the  lines.  They 
were  all  dark  in  tint,  thin,  tinged  with  plum  colour. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  curves  in  them — and  at  first 
she  could  not  comprehend  that  he  was  drawing  her 
figure.  But  after  a  little  while  curves  appeared ;  long 
delicate  outlines  began  to  emerge  as  rounded  surfaces 
in  monochrome,  casting  definite  shadows  on  other  sur 
faces.  She  could  recognise  the  shape  of  a  human  head ; 
saw  it  gradually  become  a  colourless  drawing ;  saw 
shoulders,  arms,  a  body  emerging  into  shadowy  shape ; 
saw  the  long  fine  limbs  appear,  the  slender  indication 
of  feet. 

Then  flat  on  the  cheek  lay  a  patch  of  brilliant  col 
our,  another  on  the  mouth.  A  great  swirl  of  cloud 
forms  sprang  into  view  high  piled  in  a  corner  of  the 
canvas. 

And  now  he  seemed  to  be  eternally  running  up  and 
down  his  ladder,  shifting  it  here  and  there  across  the 
vast  white  background  of  canvas,  drawing  great  mean 
ingless  lines  in  distant  expanses  of  the  texture,  then, 
always  consulting  her  with  his  keen,  impersonal  gaze, 

16 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


he  pushed  back  his  ladder,  mounted,  wiped  the  big 
brushes,  selected  others  smaller  and  flatter,  considering 
her  in  penetrating  silence  between  every  brush  stroke. 

She  saw  a  face  and  hair  growing  lovely  under  her 
eyes,  bathed  in  an  iris-tinted  light;  saw  little  exquisite 
flecks  of  colour  set  here  and  there  on  the  white  ex 
panse;  watched  all  so  intently,  so  wonderingly,  that 
the  numbness  of  her  body  became  a  throbbing  pain  be 
fore  she  was  aware  that  she  was  enduring  torture. 

She  strove  to  move,  gave  a  little  gasp ;  and  he  was 
down  from  his  ladder  and  up  on  hers  before  her  half- 
paralysed  body  had  swayed  to  the  edge  of  danger. 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so  ?  "  he  asked,  sharply.  "  I 
can't  keep  track  of  time  when  I'm  working !  " 

With  arms  and  fingers  that  scarcely  obeyed  her  she 
contrived  to  gather  the  white  wool  covering  around 
her  shoulders  and  limbs  and  lay  back. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  "  that  it's  foolish  to  act  this 
way.  I  don't  want  to  kill  you,  Miss  West." 

She  only  lowered  her  head  amid  its  lovely  crown 
of  hair. 

"  You  know  your  own  limits,"  he  said,  resentfully. 
He  looked  down  at  the  big  clock :  "  It's  a  full  hour. 
You  had  only  to  speak.  Why  didn't  you?  " 

"  I — I  didn't  know  what  to  say." 

"  Didn't  know !  "  He  paused,  astonished.  Then : 
"  Well,  you  felt  yourself  getting  numb,  didn't  you?" 

"  Y-yes.  But  I  thought  it  was — to  be  expected  " — 
she  blushed  vividly  under  his  astonished  gaze :  "  I  think 
I  had  better  tell  you  that — that  this  is — the  first  time." 

"  The  first  time !  " 

"  Yes.  ...  I  ought  to  have  told  you.  I  was  afraid 
you  might  not  want  me." 

17 


THE   COMMON  L.AW 


"  Lord  above !  "  he  breathed.  "  You  poor — poor 
little  thing ! " 

She  began  to  cry  silently ;  he  saw  the  drops  fall  shin 
ing  on  the  white  wool  robe,  and  leaned  one  elbow  on 
the  ladder,  watching  them.  After  a  while  they  ceased, 
but  she  still  held  her  head  low,  and  her  face  was  bent  in 
the  warm  shadow  of  her  hair. 

"  How  could  I  understand?  "  he  asked  very  gently. 

"  I — should  have  told  you.     I  was  afraid." 

He  said :  "  I'm  terribly  sorry.  It  must  have  been 
perfect  torture  for  you  to  undress — to  come  into  the 
studio.  If  you'd  only  given  me  an  idea  of  how  matters 
stood  I  could  have  made  it  a  little  easier.  I'm  afraid 
I  was  brusque — taking  it  for  granted  that  you  were  a 
model  and  knew  your  business.  .  .  .  I'm  terribly  sorry." 

She  lifted  her  head,  looked  at  him,  with  the  tears 
still  clinging  to  her  lashes. 

"  You  have  been  very  nice  to  me.  It  is  all  my  own 
fault." 

He  smiled.  "  Then  it's  all  right,  now  that  we  un 
derstand.  Isn't  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  make   a   stunning  model,"   he   said   frankly. 

"  Do  I  ?    Then  you  will  let  me  come  again  ?  " 

"  Let  you!  "  He  laughed;  "  I'll  be  more  likely  to 
beg  you." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  have  to,"  she  said ;  "  I'll  come  as 
long  as  you  want  me." 

"  That  is  simply  angelic  of  you.  Tell  me,  do  you 
wish  to  descend  to  terra  firma?  " 

She  glanced  below,  doubtfully: 

"  N-no,  thank  you.     If  I  could  only  stretch  my — 

legs " 

18 


THE   COMMON   T,AW 


"  Stretch  away,"  he  said,  much  amused,  "  but  don't 
tumble  off  and  break  into  pieces.  I  like  you  better  as 
you  are  than  as  an  antique  and  limbless  Venus." 

She  cautiously  and  daintily  extended  first  one  leg 
then  the  other  under  the  wool  robe,  then  eased  the 
cramped  muscles  of  her  back,  straightening  her  body 
and  flexing  her  arms  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  As 
her  shy  sidelong  gaze  reverted  to  him  she  saw  to  her 
relief  that  he  was  not  noticing  her.  A  slight  sense  of 
warmth  suffused  her  body,  and  she  stretched  herself 
again,  more  confidently,  and  ventured  to  glance  around. 

"  Speaking  of  terms,"  he  said  in  an  absent  way, 
apparently  preoccupied  with  the  palette  which  he  was 
carefully  scraping,  "  do  you  happen  to  know  what 
is  the  usual  recompense  for  a  model's  service?  " 

She  said  that  she  had  heard,  and  added  with  quick 
diffidence  that  she  could  not  expect  so  much,  being  only 
a  beginner. 

He  polished  the  surface  of  the  palette  with  a  hand 
ful  of  cheese  cloth: 

"  Don't  you  think  that  you  are  worth  it?  " 

"  How  can  I  be  until  I  know  how  to  pose  for  you?  " 

"  You  will  never  have  to  learn  how  to  pose,  Miss 
West." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean  that  some  models  never  learn.  Some  know 
how  already — you,  for  example." 

She  flushed  slightly :  "  Do  you  really  mean  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  say  so  if  I  didn't.  It's  merely 
necessary  for  you  to  accustom  yourself  to  holding  a 
pose;  the  rest  you  already  know  instinctively." 

"  What  is  the  rest?  "  she  ventured  to  ask.     "  I  don't 

quite  understand  what  you  see  in  me " 

19 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Well,"  he  said  placidly,  "  you  are  beautifully 
made.  That  is  nine-tenths  of  the  matter.  Your  head 
is  set  logically  on  your  neck,  and  your  neck  is  cor 
rectly  placed  on  your  spine,  and  your  legs  and  arms 
are  properly  attached  to  your  torso — your  entire  body, 
anatomically  speaking,  is  hinged,  hung,  supported,  de 
veloped  as  the  ideal  body  should  be.  It's  undeformed, 
unmarred,  unspoiled,  and  that's  partly  luck,  partly  in 
heritance,  and  mostly  decent  habits  and  digestion." 

She  was  listening  intently,  interested,  surprised,  her 
pink  lips  slightly  parted. 

"  Another  point,"  he  continued ;  "  you  seem  unable 
to  move  or  rest  ungracefully.  Few  women  are  so  built 
that  an  ungraceful  motion  is  impossible  for  them.  You 
are  one  of  the  few.  It's  all  a  matter  of  anatomy." 

She  remained  silent,  watching  him  curiously. 

He  said :  "  But  the  final  clincher  to  your  qualifica 
tions  is  that  you  are  intelligent.  I  have  known  pretty 
women,"  he  added  with  sarcasm,  "  who  were  not  what 
learned  men  would  call  precisely  intelligent.  But  you 
are.  I  showed  you  my  sketch,  indicated  in  a  general 
way  what  I  wanted,  and  instinctively  and  intelligently 
you  assumed  the  proper  attitude.  I  didn't  have  to 
take  you  by  the  chin  and  twist  your  head  as  though 
you  were  a  lay  figure ;  I  didn't  have  to  pull  you  about 
and  flex  and  bend  and  twist  you.  You  knew  that  I 
wanted  you  to  look  like  some  sort  of  an  ethereal  im-  ' 
mortality,  deliciously  relaxed,  adrift  in  sunset  clouds. 
And  you  were  it — somehow  or  other." 

She  looked  down,  thoughtfully,  nestling  to  the  chin 
in  the  white  wool  folds.  A  smile,  almost  imperceptible, 
curved  her  lips. 

"  You  are  making  it  very  easy  for  me,"  she  said. 
20 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  You  make  it  easy  for  yourself." 

"  I  was  horribly  afraid,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know — nobody  can  know — no  man 
can  understand  the  terror  of — of  the  first  time " 

"  It  must  be   a   ghastly   experience." 

"It  is ! — I  don't  mean  that  you  have  not  done 
everything  to  make  it  easier — but — there  in  the  little 
room — my  courage  left  me — I  almost  died.  I'd  have 
run  away  only — I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  let  me " 

He  began  to  laugh;  she  tried  to,  but  the  terror  of 
it  all  was  as  yet  too  recent. 

"  At  first,"  she  said,  "  I  was  afraid  I  wouldn't  do 
for  a  model — not  exactly  afraid  of  my — my  appear 
ance,  but  because  I  was  a  novice ;  and  I  imagined  that 
one  had  to  know  exactly  how  to  pose " 

"  I  think,"  he  interrupted  smilingly,  "  that  you 
might  take  the  pose  again  if  you  are  rested.  Go  on 
talking;  I  don't  mind  it." 

She  sat  erect,  loosened  the  white  wool  robe  and 
dropped  it  from  her  with  less  consciousness  and  effort 
than  before.  Very  carefully  she  set  her  feet  on  the 
blocks,  fitting  the  shapely  heels  to  the  chalked  outlines ; 
found  the  mark  for  her  elbow,  adjusted  her  slim,  smooth 
body  and  looked  at  him,  flushing. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  briefly ;  "  go  ahead  and  talk 
tc  me." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to?  " 

"  Yes ;  I'd  rather." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  to  say. 

"  Say  anything,"  he  returned  absently,  selecting  a 
flat  brush  with  a  very  long  handle. 

She  thought  a  moment,  then,  lifting  her  eyes : 
2  21 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  I  might  ask  you  your  name." 

"What?  Don't  you  know  it?  Oh,  Lord!  Oh, 
Vanity !  I  thought  you'd  heard  of  me." 

She  blushed,  confused  by  her  ignorance  and  what 
she  feared  was  annoyance  on  his  part ;  then  perceived 
that  he  was  merely  amused ;  and  her  face  cleared. 

"  We  folk  who  create  concrete  amusement  for  the 
public  always  imagine  ourselves  much  better  known  to 
that  public  than  we  are,  Miss  West.  It's  our  little 
vanity — rather  harmless  after  all.  We're  a  pretty 
decent  lot,  sometimes  absurd,  especially  in  our  tragic 
moments ;  sometimes  emotional,  usually  illogical,  often 
impulsive,  frequently  tender-hearted  as  well  as  super- 
sensitive. 

"  Now  it  was  a  pleasant  little  vanity  for  me  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  somehow  you  had  heard  of  me  and 
had  climbed  twelve  nights  of  stairs  for  the  privilege 
of  sitting  for  me." 

He  laughed  so  frankly  that  the  shy,  responsive  smile 
made  her  face  enchanting;  and  he  coolly  took  advantage 
of  it,  and  while  exciting  and  stimulating  it,  affixed  it 
immortally  on  the  exquisite  creature  he  was  painting. 

"  So  you  didn't  climb  those  twelve  flights  solely 
for  the  privilege  of  having  me  paint  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  admitted,  laughingly,  "  I  was  merely 
going  to  begin  at  the  top  and  apply  for  work  all  the 
way  down  until  somebody  took  me — or  nobody  took 
me." 

"  But  why  begin  at  the  top?  " 

"  It  is  easier  to  bear  disappointment  going  down," 
she  said,  seriously ;  "  if  two  or  three  artists  had  refused 
me  on  the  first  and  second  floors,  my  legs  would  not 
have  carried  me  up  very  far." 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Bad  logic,"  he  commented.  "  We  mount  by  ex 
perience,  using  our  wrecked  hopes  as  footholds." 

"  You  don't  know  how  much  a  girl  can  endure. 
There  comes  a  time — after  years  of  steady  descent — 
when  misfortune  and  disappointment  become  endurable ; 
when  hope  deferred  no  longer  sickens.  It  is  in  rising 
toward  better  things  that  disappointments  hurt  most 
cruelly." 

He  turned  his  head  in  surprise ;  then  went  on  paint 
ing: 

"  Your  philosophy  is  the  philosophy  of  submission." 

"Do   you  call  a  struggle   of  years,   submission?" 

"  But  it  was  giving  up  after  all — acquiescence,  de 
spondency,  a  laissez  faire  policy." 

"  One  may  tire  of  fighting." 

"  One  may.     Another  may  not." 

"  I  think  you  have  never  had  to  fight  very  hard." 

He  turned  his  head  abruptly;  after  a  moment's 
silent  survey  of  her,  he  resumed  his  painting  with  a 
sharp,  impersonal  glance  before  every  swift  and  decisive 
brush  stroke: 

"  No ;  I  have  never  had  to  fight,  Miss  West.  ...  It 
was  keen  of  you  to  recognise  it.  I  have  never  had  to 
fight  at  all.  Things  come  easily  to  me — things  have  a 
habit  of  coming  my  way.  ...  I  suppose  I'm  not  ex 
actly  the  man  to  lecture  anybody  on  the  art  of  fight 
ing  fortune.  She's  always  been  decent  to  me.  .  .  . 
Sometimes  I'm  afraid — I  have  an  instinct  that  she's 
too  friendly.  .  .  .  And  it  troubles  me.  Do  you  under 
stand  what  I  mean?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  looked  up  at  her :  "  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.     I  have  been  watching  you  painting. 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


I  never  imagined  anybody  could  draw  so  swiftly,  so 
easily — paint  so  surely,  so  accurately — that  every  brush 
stroke  could  be  so — so  significant,  so  decisive.  .  .  . 
Is  it  not  unusual?  And  is  not  that  what  is  called 
facility?" 

"  Lord  in  Heaven !  "  he  said ;  "  what  kind  of  a  girl 
am  I  dealing  with? — or  what  kind  of  a  girl  is  dealing 
so  unmercifully  with  me?  " 

"  I— I  didn't  mean " 

"  Yes,  you  did.  Those  very  lovely  and  wonderfully 
shaped  eyes  of  yours  are  not  entirely  for  ornament. 
Inside  that  pretty  head  there's  an  apparatus  designed 
for  thinking;  and  it  isn't  idle." 

He  laughed  gaily,  a  trifle  defiantly: 

"  You've  said  it.  You've  found  the  fly  in  the  amber. 
I'm  cursed  with  facility.  Worse  still  it  gives  me  keen 
est  pleasure  to  employ  it.  It  does  scare  me  occasionally 
— has  for  years — makes  me  miserable  at  intervals — 
fills  me  full  of  all  kinds  of  fears  and  doubts." 

He  turned  toward  her,  standing  on  his  ladder,  the 
big  palette  curving  up  over  his  left  shoulder,  a  wet 
brush  extended  in  his  right  hand: 

"  What  shall  I  do !  "  he  exclaimed  so  earnestly  that 
she  sat  up  straight,  startled,  forgetting  her  pose. 
"  Ought  I  to  stifle  the  vigour,  the  energy,  the  restless 
desire  that  drives  me  to  express  myself — that  will  not 
tolerate  the  inertia  of  calculation  and  ponderous  reflec 
tion?  Ought  I  to  check  myself,  consider,  worry,  en 
tangle  myself  in  psychologies,  seek  for  subtleties  where 
none  exist  —  split  hairs,  relapse  into  introspective 
philosophy  when  my  fingers  itch  for  a  lump  of  charcoal 
and  every  colour  on  my  set  palette  yells  at  me  to  be 
about  my  business  ?  " 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


He  passed  the  flat  tip  of  his  wet  brush  through 
the  mass  of  rags  in  his  left  hand  with  a  graceful  mo 
tion  like  one  unsheathing  a  sword : 

"  I  tell  you  I  do  the  things  which  I  do,  as  easily, 
as  naturally,  as  happily  as  any  fool  of  a  dicky-bird 
does  his  infernal  twittering  on  an  April  morning.  God 
knows  whether  there's  anything  in  my  work  or  in  his 
twitter ;  but  neither  he  nor  I  are  likely  to  improve  our 
output  by  pondering  and  cogitation.  .  .  .  Please  re 
sume  the  pose." 

She  did  so,  her  dark  young  eyes  on  him;  and  he 
continued  painting  and  talking  in  his  clear,  rapid,  de 
cisive  manner: 

"  My  name  is  Louis  Neville.  They  call  me  Kelly 
— my  friends  do,"  he  added,  laughing.  "  Have  you 
ever  seen  any  of  my  work  ?  " 

"Yes."   ' 

He  laughed  again :  "  That's  more  soothing.  How 
ever,  I  suppose  you  saw  that  big  canvas  of  mine  for 
the  ceiling  of  the  Metropolitan  Museum's  new  northwest 
•ving.  The  entire  town  saw  it." 

"Yes,  I  saw  it." 

"  Did  you  care  for  it  ?  " 

She  had  cared  for  it  too  intensely  to  give  him  any 
adequate  answer.  Never  before  had  her  sense  of  colour 
and  form  and  beauty  been  so  exquisitely  satisfied  by 
the  painted  magic  of  any  living  painter.  So  this  was 
the  man  who  had  enveloped  her,  swayed  her  senses, 
whirled  her  upward  into  his  ocean  of  limpid  light ! 
This  was  the  man  who  had  done  that  miracle  before 
which,  all  day  long,  crowds  of  the  sober,  decent,  un 
imaginative — the  solid,  essentials  of  the  nation — had 
lingered  fascinated !  This  was  the  man — across  there  on 

25 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


a  stepladder.    And  he  was  evidently  not  yet  thirty ;  and 
his  name  was  Neville  and  his  friends  called  him  Kelly. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  diffidently,  "  I  cared  for  it." 

"Really?" 

He  caught  her  eye,  laughed,  and  went  on  with  his 
.work. 

"  The  critics  were  savage,"  he  said.  "  Lord !  It 
hurts,  too.  But  I've  simply  got  to  be  busy.  What 
good  would  it  do  me  to  sit  down  and  draw  casts  with 
a  thin,  needle-pointed  stick  of  hard  charcoal.  Not  that 
they  say  I  can't  draw.  They  admit  that  I  can.  They 
admit  that  I  can  paint,  too." 

He  laughed,  stretched  his  arms : 

"  Draw !  A  blank  canvas  sets  me  mad.  When  I 
look  at  one  I  feel  like  covering  it  with  a  thousand 
figures  twisted  into  every  intricacy  and  difficulty  of 
foreshortening !  I  wish  I  were  like  that  Hindu  god  with 
a  dozen  arms ;  and  even  then  I  couldn't  paint  fast 
enough  to  satisfy  what  my  eyes  and  brain  have  already 
evoked  upon  an  untouched  canvas.  .  .  .  It's  a  sort  of 
intoxication  that  gets  hold  of  me;  I'm  perfectly  cool, 
too,  which  seems  a  paradox  but  isn't.  And  all  the 
while,  inside  me,  is  a  constant,  hushed  kind  of  laughter, 
bubbling,  which  accompanies  every  brush  stroke  with 
an  '  I  told  you  so ! ' — if  you  know  what  I'm  trying 
to  say — do  you  ?  " 

"  N-not  exactly.  But  I  suppose  you  mean  that 
you  are  self-confident." 

"  Lord !  Listen  to  this  girl  say  in  a  dozen  words 
what  I'm  trying  to  say  in  a  volume  so  that  it  won't 
scare  me!  Yes!  That's  it.  I  am  confident.  And  it's 
that  self-confidence  which  sometimes  scares  me  half  to 
death." 

26 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


From  his  ladder  he  pointed  with  his  brush  to  the 
preliminary  sketch  that  faced  her,  touching  figure  after 
figure : 

"  I'm  going  to  draw  them  in,  now,"  he  said ;  "  first 
this  one.  Can  you  catch  the  pose?  It's  going  to  be 
hard;  I'll  block  up  your  heels,  later;  that's  it!  Stand 
up  straight,  stretch  as  though  the  next  moment  you 
were  going  to  rise  on  tiptoe  and  float  upward  without 
an  effort " 

He  was  working  like  lightning  in  long,  beautiful, 
clean  outline  strokes,  brushed  here  and  there  with 
shadow  shapes  and  masses.  And  time  flew  at  first,  then 
went  slowly,  more  slowly,  until  it  dragged  at  her  delicate 
body  and  set  every  nerve  aching. 

"  I — may  I  rest  a  moment  ?  " 

"Sure  thing!"  he  said,  cordially,  laying  aside 
palette  and  brushes.  "  Come  on,  Miss  West,  and  we'll 
have  luncheon." 

She  hastily  swathed  herself  in  the  wool  robe. 

"  Do  you  mean — here  ?  " 

"  Yes.  There's  a  dumb-waiter.  I'll  ring  for  the 
card." 

"  I'd  like  to,"  she  said,  "  but  do  you  think  I  had 
better?" 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  mean — take  lunch  with  you  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Is  it  customary  ?  " 

"  No,  it  isn't." 

"  Then  I  think  I  will  go  out  to  lunch  some 
where " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  get  away,"  he  said, 
laughing.  "  You're  too  good  to  be  real ;  I'm  worried 

27 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


half  to  death  for  fear  that  you'll  vanish  in  a  golden 
cloud,  or  something  equally  futile  and  inconsiderate. 
No,  I  want  you  to  stay.  You  don't  mind,  do  you?  " 

He  was  aiding  her  to  descend  from  her  eyrie,  her 
little  white  hand  balanced  on  his  arm.  When  she  set 
foot  on  the  floor  she  looked  up  at  him  gravely : 

"  You  wouldn't  let  me  do  anything  that  I  ought  not 
to,  would  you,  Mr.  Kelly — I  mean  Mr.  Neville  ?  "  she 
added  in  confusion. 

"  No.  Anyway  I  don't  know  what  you  ought  or 
ought  not  to  do.  Luncheon  is  a  simple  matter  of  rou 
tine.  It's  sole  significance  is  two  empty  stomachs.  I 
suppose  if  you  go  out  you  will  come  back,  but — I'd 
rather  you'd  remain." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,"  he  admitted  with  a  laugh,  "  it's  probably 
because  I  like  to  hear  myself  talk  to  you.  Besides,  I've 
always  the  hope  that  you'll  suddenly  become  conversa 
tional,  and  that's  a  possibility  exciting  enough  to  give 
anybody  an  appetite." 

"  But  I  have  conversed  with  you,"  she  said. 

"  Only  a  little.  What  you  said  acted  like  a  cocktail 
to  inspire  me  for  a  desire  for  more." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  were  not  named  Kelly  in 
vain." 

"  You  mean  blarney  ?  No,  it's  merely  frankness. 
Let  me  get  you  some  bath-slippers " 

"  Oh — but  if  I  am  to  lunch  here — I  can't  do  it  this 
way ! "  she  exclaimed  in  flushed  consternation. 

"  Indeed  you  must  learn  to  do  that  without  embar 
rassment,  Miss  West.  Tie  up  your  robe  at  the  throat, 
tuck  up  your  sleeves,  slip  your  feet  into  a  nice  pair  of 
brand-new  bath-slippers,  and  I'll  ring  for  luncheon." 

28 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  I — don't — want  to —  '  she  began  ;  but  he  went 
away  into  the  hall,  rang,  and  presently  she  heard  the 
ascending  clatter  of  a  dumb-waiter.  From  it  he  took 
the  luncheon  card  and  returned  to  where  she  was  sit 
ting  at  a  rococo  table.  She  blushed  as  he  laid  the  card 
before  her,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The 
result  was  that  he  did  the  ordering,  sent  the  dumb-waiter 
down  with  his  scribbled  memorandum,  and  came  wander 
ing  back  with  long,  cool  glances  at  his  canvas  and  the 
work  he  had  done  on  it. 

"  I  mean  to  make  a  stunning  thing  of  it,"  he  re 
marked,  eying  the  huge  chassis  critically.  "  All  this — 
deviltry — whatever  it  is  inside  of  me — must  come  out 
somehow.  And  that  canvas  is  the  place  for  it."  He 
laughed  and  sat  down  opposite  her: 

"  Man  is  born  to  folly,  Miss  West — born  full  of  it. 
I  get  rid  of  mine  on  canvas.  It's  a  safer  outlet  for  orig 
inal  sin  than  some  other  ways." 

She  lay  back  in  her  antique  gilded  chair,  hands  ex 
tended  along  the  arms,  looking  at  him  with  a  smile  that 
was  still  shy. 

"  My  idea  of  you — of  an  artist — was  so  different," 
she  said. 

"  There  are  all  kinds,  mostly  the  seriously  inspired 
and  humourless  variety  who  makes  a  mystic  religion  of 
a  very  respectable  profession.  This  world  is  full  of 
pale,  enraptured  artists  ;  full  of  muscular,  thumb-smear 
ing  artists;  full  of  dreamy  weavers  of  visions,  usually 
deficient  in  spinal  process ;  full  of  unwashed  little  inverts 
to  whom  the  world  really  resembles  a  kaleidoscope  full 
of  things  that  wiggle " 

They  began  to  laugh,  he  with  a  singular  delight  in 
her  comprehension  of  his  idle,  irresponsible  chatter,  she 

29 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


from  sheer  pleasure  in  listening  and  looking  at  this  man 
who  was  so  different  from  anybody  she  had  ever  known 
— and,  thank  God ! — so  young. 

And  when  the  bell  rang  and  the  clatter  announced 
the  advent  of  luncheon,  she  settled  in  her  chair  with  a 
little  shiver  of  happiness,  blushing  at  her  capacity  for 
it,  and  at  her  acquiescence  in  the  strangest  conditions 
in  which  she  had  ever  found  herself  in  all  her  life, — 
conditions  so  bizarre,  so  grotesque,  so  impossible  that 
there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  consider  them — alas !  no 
point  in  blushing  now. 

Mechanically  she  settled  her  little  naked  feet  deep 
into  the  big  bath-slippers,  tucked  up  her  white  wool 
sleeves  to  the  dimpled  elbow,  and  surveyed  the  soup  which 
he  had  placed  before  her  to  serve. 

"  I  know  perfectly  well  that  this  isn't  right,"  she 
said,  helping  him  and  then  herself.  "  But  I  am  won 
dering  what  there  is  about  it  that  isn't  right." 

"  Isn't  it  demoralising !  "  he  said,  amused. 

«I_wonder  if  it  is?" 

He  laughed :  "  Such  ideas  are  nonsense,  Miss  West. 
Listen  to  me:  you  and  I — everybody  except  those  with 
whom  something  is  physically  wrong — are  born  with  a 
full  and  healthy  capacity  for  demoralisation  and  mis 
chief.  Mischief  is  only  one  form  of  energy.  If  light 
ning  flies  about  unguided  it's  likely  to  do  somebody  some 
damage;  if  it's  conducted  properly  to  a  safe  terminal 
there's  no  damage  done  and  probably  a  little  good." 

"  Your  brushes  are  your  lightning-rods  ?  "  she  sug 
gested,  laughing. 

"  Certainly.  I  only  demoralise  canvas.  What  out 
let  have  you  for  your  perfectly  normal  deviltry  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  any." 

30 


"'I  know  perfectly  well  that  this  isn't  right,'  she  said." 

"Any  deviltry?" 
"  Any  outlet." 
"  You  ought  to  have." 
"Ought  I?" 

"  Certainly.     You  are  as  full  of  restless  energy  as 
I  am." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  I  am." 

"  You  are.    Look  at  yourself !    I  never  saw  anybody 
31 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


so  sound,  so  superbly  healthy,  so " — he  laughed — 
"  adapted  to  dynamics.  You've  got  to  have  an  outlet. 
Or  there'll  be  the  deuce  to  pay." 

She  looked  at  her  fruit  salad  gravely,  tasted  it, 
and  glanced  up  at  him: 

"  I  have  never  in  all  my  life  had  any  outlet — never 
even  any  outlook,  Mr.  Neville." 

"  You  should  have  had  both,"  he  grumbled,  annoyed 
at  himself  for  the  interest  her  words  had  for  him;  un 
easy,  now  that  she  had  responded,  yet  curious  to  learn 
something  about  this  fair  young  girl,  approximately 
his  intellectual  equal,  who  came  to  his  door  looking  for 
work  as  a  model.  He  thought  to  himself  that  probably 
it  was  some  distressing  tale  which  he  couldn't  help,  and 
the  recital  of  which  would  do  neither  of  them  any  good. 
Of  stories  of  models'  lives  he  was  tired,  satiated.  There 
was  no  use  encouraging  her  to  family  revelations ;  an 
easy,  pleasant  footing  was  far  more  amusing  to  main 
tain.  The  other  hinted  of  intimacy ;  and  that  he  had 
never  tolerated  in  his  employees. 

Yet,  looking  now  across  the  table  at  her,  a  not  un 
kind  curiosity  began  to  prod  him.  He  could  easily 
have  left  matters  where  they  were,  maintained  the  status 
quo  indefinitely — or  as  long  as  he  needed  her  services. 

"  Outlets  are  necessary,"  he  said,  cautiously. 
"  Otherwise  we  go  to  the  bow-wows." 

"  Or— die." 

"What?"  sharply. 

She  looked  up  without  a  trace  of  self-consciousness 
or  the  least  hint  of  the  dramatic: 

"  I  would  die  unless  I  had  an  outlet.  This  is 
almost  one.  At  least  it  gives  me  something  to  do  with 
my  life." 

32 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"Posing?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"  Why,  I  only  mean  that — the  other  " — she  smiled — 
"  what  you  call  the  bow-wows,  would  not  have  been  an 
outlet  for  me.  ...  I  was  a  show-girl  for  two  months 
last  winter;  I  ought  to  know.  And  I'd  rather  have 
died  than " 

"  I  see,"  he  said ;  "  that  outlet  was  too  stupid  to 
have  attracted  you." 

She  nodded.  "  Besides,  I  have  principles,"  she 
said,  candidly. 

"  Which  effectually  blocked  that  outlet.  They  some 
times  kill,  too,  as  you  say.  Youth  stifled  too  long  means 
death — the  death  of  youth  at  least.  Outlets  mean  life. 
The  idea  is  to  find  a  safe  one." 

She  flushed  in  quick,  sensitive  response : 

"  That  is  it ;  that  is  what  I  meant.  Mr.  Neville,  I  am 
twenty-one ;  and  do  you  know  I  never  had  a  childhood  ? 
And  I  am  simply  wild  for  it — for  the  girlhood  and  the 
playtime  that  I  never  had " 

She  checked  herself,  looking  across  at  him  un 
certainly. 

"  Go  on,"  he  nodded. 

"  That  is  all." 

"No;  tell  me  the  rest." 

She  sat  with  head  bent,  slender  fingers  picking  at 
her  napkin ;  then,  without  raising  her  troubled  eyes : 

"  Life  has  been — curious.  My  mother  was  bedrid 
den.  My  childhood  and  girlhood  were  passed  caring  for 
her.  That  is  all  I  ever  did  until — a  year  ago,"  she 
added,  her  voice  falling  so  low  he  could  scarcely  hear 
her. 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"She  died,  then?" 

"  A  year  ago  last  February." 

"  You  went  to  school.  You  must  have  made  friends 
there." 

"  I  went  to  a  public  school  for  a  year.  After  that 
mother  taught  me." 

"  She  must  have  been  extremely  cultivated." 

The  girl  nodded,  looking  absently  at  the  cloth. 
Then,  glancing  up: 

"  I  wonder  whether  you  will  understand  me  when 
I  tell  you  why  I  decided  to  ask  employment  of  artists." 

"  I'll  try  to,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  It  was  an  intense  desire  to  be  among  cultivated 
people — if  only  for  a  few  hours.  Besides,  I  had  read 
about  artists ;  and  their  lives  seemed  so  young,  so  gay, 
so  worth  living — please  don't  think  me  foolish  and  im 
mature,  Mr.  Neville — but  I  was  so  stifled,  so  cut  off  from 
such  people,  so  uninspired,  so — so  starved  for  a  little  gai 
ety — and  I  needed  youthful  companionship — surround 
ings  where  people  of  my  own  age  and  intelligence  some 
times  entered — and  I  had  never  had  it " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  strained,  wistful  expression 
as  though  begging  him  to  understand  her : 

"  I  couldn't  remain  at  the  theatre,"  she  said.  "  I 
had  little  talent — no  chance  except  chances  I  would  not 
tolerate;  no  companionship  except  what  I  was  unfitted 
for  by  education  and  inclination.  .  .  .  The  men  were 
— impossible.  There  may  have  been  girls  I  could  have 
liked — but  I  did  not  meet  them.  So,  as  I  had  to  do 
something — and  my  years  of  seclusion  with  mother  had 
unfitted  me  for  any  business — for  office  work  or  shop 
work — I  thought  that  artists  might  care  to  employ  me 
— might  give  me — or  let  me  see — be  near — something 

34, 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


of  the  gayer,  brighter,  more  pleasant  and  youthful  side 
of  life—  — " 

She  ceased,  bent  her  head  thoughtfully. 

"  You  want — friends?  Young  ones — with  intellects? 
You  want  to  combine  these  with  a  chance  of  making  a 
decent  living  ?  " 

"  Yes."  She  looked  up  candidly :  "  I  am  simply 
starved  for  it.  You  must  believe  that  when  you  see 
what  I  have  submitted  to — gone  through  with  in  your 
studio  " — she  blushed  vividly — "  in  a — a  desperate  at 
tempt  to  escape  the — the  loneliness,  the  silence  and  isola 
tion  " — she  raised  her  dark  eyes — "  the  isolation  of  the 
poor,"  she  said.  "  You  don't  know  what  that  means." 

After  a  moment  she  added,  level-eyed :  "  For  which 
there  is  supposed  to  be  but  one  outlet — if  a  girl  is 
attractive." 

He  rose,  walked  to  and  fro  for  a  few  moments,  then, 
halting : 

"  All  memory  of  the  initial  terror  and  distress  and 
uncertainty  aside,  have  you  not  enjoyed  this  morning, 
Miss  West?" 

"  Yes,  I — have.  I — you  have  no  idea  what  it  has 
meant  to  me." 

"  It  has  given  you  an  outlook,  anyway." 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  Only — I'm  terrified  at  the  idea  of  going 
through  it  again — with  another  man " 

He  laughed,  and  she  tried  to,  saying : 

"  But  if  all  artists  are  as  kind  and  considerate " 

"  Plenty  of  'em  are  more  so.  There  are  a  few  bound 
ers,  a  moderate  number  of  beasts.  You'll  find  them 
everywhere  in  the  world  from  the  purlieus  to  the  pulpit. 
.  .  .  I'm  going  to  make  a  contract  with  you.  After 
that,  regretfully,  I'll  see  that  you  meet  the  men  who 

35 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


will  be  valuable  to  you.  ...  I  wish  there  was  some 
way  I  could  box  you  up  in  a  jeweller's  case  so  that 
nobody  else  could  have  you  and  I  could  find  you  when  I 
needed  you !  " 

She  laughed  shyly,  extended  her  slim  white  hand  for 
him  to  support  her  while  she  mounted  to  her  eyrie. 
Then,  erect,  delicately  flushed,  she  let  the  robe  fall  from 
her  and  stood  looking  down  at  him  in  silence. 


CHAPTER    II 

SPRING  came  unusually  early  that  year.  By  the 
first  of  the  month  a  few  willows  and  thorn  bushes  in  the 
Park  had  turned  green ;  then,  in  a  single  day,  the  entire 
Park  became  lovely  with  golden  bell-flowers,  and  the 
first  mowing  machine  clinked  over  the  greenswards  leav 
ing  a  fragrance  of  clipped  verdure  in  its  wake. 

Under  a  characteristic  blue  sky  April  unfolded  its 
myriad  leaves  beneath  which  robins  ran  over  shaven 
lawns  and  purple  grackle  bustled  busily  about,  and 
the  water  fowl  quacked  and  whistled  and  rushed  through 
the  water  nipping  and  chasing  one  another  or,  sidling 
alongside,  began  that  nodding,  bowing,  bobbing  ac 
quaintance  preliminary  to  aquatic  courtship. 

Many  of  the  wild  birds  had  mated ;  many  were  mat 
ing;  amorous  caterwauling  on  back  fences  made  night 
an  inferno ;  pigeons  cooed  and  bubbled  and  made  endless 
nuisances  of  themselves  all  day  long. 

In  lofts,  offices,  and  shops  youthful  faces,  whitened 
by  the  winter's  pallour,  appeared  at  open  windows  gaz 
ing  into  the  blue  above,  or,  with  pretty,  inscrutable 
eyes,  studied  the  passing  throng  till  the  lifted  eyes  of 
youth  below  completed  the  occult  circuit  with  a  smile. 

And  the  spring  sunshine  grew  hot,  and  sprinkling 
carts  appeared,  and  the  metropolis  moulted  its  over 
coats,  and  the  derby  became  a  burden,  and  the  annual 

37 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


spring  exhibition  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design 
remained  uncrowded. 

Neville,  lunching  at  the  Syrinx  Club,  carelessly 
caught  the  ball  of  conversation  tossed  toward  him  and 
contributed  his  final  comment: 

"  Burleson  —  and  you,  Sam  Ogilvy  —  and  you, 
Annan,  all  say  that  the  exhibition  is  rotten.  You  say 
so  every  year;  so  does  the  majority  of  people.  And  the 
majority  will  continue  saying  the  same  thing  through 
out  the  coming  decades  as  long  as  there  are  any  exhibi 
tions  to  damn. 

"  It  is  the  same  thing  in  other  countries.  For  a 
hundred  years  the  majority  has  pronounced  every  Salon 
rotten.  And  it  will  so  continue. 

"  But  the  facts  are  these :  the  average  does  not  vary 
much.  A  mediocrity,  not  disagreeable,  always  rules; 
supremity  has  been,  is,  and  always  will  be  the  stick  in 
the  riffle  around  which  the  little  whirlpool  will  always 
centre.  This  year  it  happens  to  be  Jose  Querida  who 
stems  the  sparkling  mediocrity  and  sticks  up  from  the 
bottom  gravel  making  a  fine  little  swirl.  Next  year 
— or  next  decade  it  may  be  anybody — you,  Annan, 
or  Sarn — perhaps,"  he  added  with  a  slight  smile,  "  it 
might  be  I.  Quand  meme.  The  exhibitions  are  no 
rottener  than  they  have  ever  been ;  and  it's  up  to 
us  to  go  about  our  business.  And  I'm  going.  Good 
bye." 

He  rose  from  the  table,  laid  aside  the  remains  of 
his  cigar,  nodded  good-humouredly  to  the  others,  and 
went  out  with  that  quick,  graceful,  elastic  step  which 
was  noticed  by  everybody  and  envied  by  many. 

"  Hell,"  observed  John  Burleson,  hitching  his  broad 
shoulders  forward  and  swallowing  a  goblet  of  claret 

38 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


at  a  single  gulp,  "  it's  all  right  for  Kelly  Neville  to 
shed  sweetness  and  light  over  a  rotten  exhibition  where 
half  the  people  are  crowded  around  his  own  pic 
ture." 

"  What  a  success  he's  having,"  mused  Ogilvy,  look 
ing  sideways  out  of  the  window  at  a  pretty  girl  across 
the  street. 

Annan  nodded :   "  He  works  hard  enough  for  it." 

"  He  works  all  the  time,"  grumbled  Burleson,  "  but, 
does  he  work  hard?  " 

"  A  cat  scrambling  in  a  molasses  barrel  works 
hard,"  observed  Ogilvy — "  if  you  see  any  merit  in  that, 
John." 

Burleson  reared  his  huge  frame  and  his  symmetrical 
features  became  more  bovine  than  ever : 

"  What  the  devil  has  a  cat  in  a  molasses  barrel  to 
do  with  the  sub j  ect  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Annan  laughed :  "  Poor  old  honest,  literal  John," 
he  said,  lazily.  "  Listen ;  from  my  back  window  in 
the  country,  yesterday,  I  observed  one  of  my  hens 
scratching  her  ear  with  her  foot.  How  would  you  like 
to  be  able  to  accomplish  that,  John  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  like  it  at  all ! "  roared  Burleson  in 
serious  disapproval. 

"  That's  because  you're  a  sculptor  and  a  Unita 
rian,"  said  Annan,  gravely. 

"My  God!"  shouted  Burleson,  "what's  that  got 
to  do  with  a  hen  scratching  herself !  " 

Ogilvy  was  too  weak  with  laughter  to  continue 
the  favourite  pastime  of  "  touching  up  John  " ;  and 
Burleson  who,  under  provocation,  never  exhibited  any 
emotion  except  impatient  wonder  at  the  foolishness  of 
others,  emptied  his  claret  bottle  with  unruffled  con- 

59 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


fidence  in  his  own  common-sense  and  the  futility  of  his 
friends. 

"  Kelly,  they  say,  is  making  a  stunning  lot  of  stuff 
for  that  Byzantine  Theatre,"  he  said  in  his  honest, 
resonant  voice.  "  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could  paint  like 
him." 

Annan  passed  his  delicate  hand  over  his  pale,  hand 
some  face :  "  Kelly  Neville  is,  without  exception,  the 
most  gifted  man  I  ever  knew." 

"  No,  the  most  skilful,"  suggested  Ogilvy.  "  I  have 
known  more  gifted  men  who  never  became  skilful." 


"'What's  the  matter  with  it,  then?'" 

40 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  What  hair  is  that  you're  splitting,  Sam?  "  de 
manded  Burleson.  "  Don't  you  like  Kelly's  work?  " 

"  Sure  I  do." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  it,  then?  " 

There  was  a  silence.  One  or  two  men  at  neighbour 
ing  tables  turned  partly  around  to  listen.  There  seemed 
to  be  something  in  the  very  simple  and  honest  ques 
tion  of  John  Burleson  that  arrested  the  attention  of 
every  man  at  the  Syrinx  Club  who  had  heard  it.  Be 
cause,  for  the  first  time,  the  question  which  every  man 
these  had  silently,  involuntarily  asked  himself  had  been 
uttered  aloud  at  last  by  John  Burleson — voiced  in  utter 
good  faith  and  with  all  confidence  that  the  answer  could 
be  only  that  there  was  nothing  whatever  the  matter 
with  Louis  Neville's  work.  And  his  answer  had  been 
a  universal  silence. 

Clive  Gail,  lately  admitted  to  the  Academy  said :  "  I 
have  never  in  my  life  seen  or  believed  possible  such 
facility  as  is  Louis  Neville's." 

"  Sure  thing,"  grunted  Burleson. 

"  His  personal  manner  of  doing  his  work — which  the 
critics  and  public  term  c  tek — nee — ee — eek,'  "  laughed 
Annan,  "  is  simply  gloriously  bewildering.  There  is 
a  sweeping  splendour  to  it — and  what  colour !  " 

There  ensued  murmured  and  emphatic  approbation ; 
and  another  silence. 

Ogilvy's  dark,  pleasant  face  was  troubled  when  he 
broke  the  quiet,  and  everybody  turned  toward  him : 

"  Then,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  what  is  the  matter  with 
Neville?" 

Somebody  said :  "  He  does  convince  you ;  it  isn't 
that,  is  it?" 

A  voice  replied :  "  Does  he  convince  himself  ?  " 
41 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  There  is — there  always  has  been  something  lack 
ing  in  all  that  big,  glorious,  splendid  work.  It  only 
needs  that  one  thing — whatever  it  is,"  said  Ogilvy, 
quietly.  "  Kelly  is  too  sure,  too  powerfully  perfect, 
too  omniscient " 

"  And  we  mortals  can't  stand  that,"  commented 
Annan,  laughing.  "  '  Raus  mit  Neville !  '  He  paints 
joy  and  sorrow  as  though  he'd  never  known 
either " 

And  his  voice  checked  itself  of  its  own  instinct  in 
the  startled  silence. 

"  That  man,  Neville,  has  never  known  the  pain  of 
work,"  said  Gail,  deliberately.  "  When  he  has  passed 
through  it  and  it  has  made  his  hand  less  steady,  less 
omnipotent " 

"  That's  right.  We  can't  love  a  man  who  has 
never  endured  what  we  have,"  said  another.  "  No 
genius  can  hide  his  own  immunity.  That  man  paints 
with  an  unscarred  soul.  A  little  hell  for  his — and  no 
living  painter  could  stand  beside  him." 

"  Piffle,"  observed  John  Burleson. 

Ogilvy  said :  "  It  is  true,  I  think,  that  out  of  human 
suffering  a  quality  is  distilled  which  affects  everything 
one  does.  Those  who  have  known  sorrow  can  best, 
depict  it — not  perhaps  most  plausibly,  but  most  con 
vincingly — and  with  fewer  accessories,  more  reticence, 
and — better  taste." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  paint  tragedies  ?  "  demanded 
Burleson. 

"  One  need  not  paint  them,  John,  but  one  needs  to 
understand  them  to  paint  anything  else — needs  to  have 
lived  them,  perhaps,  to  become  a  master  of  pictured 
happiness,  physical  or  spiritual." 

42 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  That's  piffle,  too !  "  said  Burleson  in  his  rumb 
ling  bass — "  like  that  damn  hen  you  lugged  in " 

A  shout  of  laughter  relieved  everybody. 

"  Do  you  want  a  fellow  to  go  and  poke  his  head  into 
trouble  and  get  himself  mixed  up  in  a  tragedy  so  that 
he  can  paint  better?  "  insisted  Burleson,  scornfully. 

"  There's  usually  no  necessity  to  hunt  trouble,"  said 
Annan. 

"  But  you  say  that  Kelly  never  had  any  and  that 
he'd  paint  better  if  he  had." 

"  Trouble  might  be  the  making  of  Kelly  Neville," 
mused  Ogilvy,  "  and  it  might  not.  It  depends,  John, 
not  on  the  amount  and  quality  of  the  hell,  but  on  the 
man  who's  frying  on  the  gridiron." 

Annan  said :  "  Personally  I  don't  see  how  Kelly 
could  paint  happiness  or  sorrow  or  wonder  or  fear  into 
any  of  his  creations  any  more  convincingly  than  he 
does.  And  yet — and  yet — sometimes  we  love  men  for 
their  shortcomings — for  the  sincerity  of  their  blunders 
— for  the  fallible  humanity  in  them.  That  after  all  is 
where  love  starts.  The  rest — what  Kelly  shows  us — 
evokes  wonder,  delight,  awe,  enthusiasm.  ...  If  he 
could  only  make  us  love  him " 

"  I  love  him  !  "  said  Burleson. 

66  We  all  are  inclined  to — if  we  could  get  near  enough 
to  him,"  said  Annan  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Him— or  his  work?" 

"  Both,  John.  There's  a  vast  amount  of  nonsense 
talked  about  the  necessity  of  separation  between  a  man 
and  his  work — that  the  public  has  no  business  with 
the  creator,  only  with  his  creations.  It  is  partly  true. 
Still,  no  man  ever  created  anything  in  which  he  did  not 
include  a  sample  of  himself — if  not  what  he  himself  is, 

43 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


at  least  what  he  would  like  to  be  and  what  he  likes  and 
dislikes  in  others.  No  creator  who  shows  his  work  can 
hope  to  remain  entirely  anonymous.  And — I  am  not  yet 
certain  that  the  public  has  no  right  to  make  its  com 
ments  on  the  man  who  did  the  work  as  well  as  on  the/ 
work  which  it  is  asked  to  judge." 

"  The  man  is  nothing ;  the  work  everything,"  quoted 
Burleson,  heavily. 

"  So  I've  heard,"  observed  Annan,  blandly.  "  It's 
rather  a  precious  thought,  isn't  it,  John  ?  " 

"  Do  you  consider  that  statement  to  be  pure  piffle?  " 

"  Partly,  dear  friend.  But  I'm  one  of  those  no 
bodies  who  cherish  a  degenerate  belief  that  man  comes 
first,  and  then  his  works,  and  that  the  main  idea  is  to 
get  through  life  as  happily  as  possible  with  the  mini 
mum  of  inconvenience  to  others.  Human  happiness  Is 
what  I  venture  to  consider  more  important  than  the  gim- 
cracks  created  by  those  same  humans.  Man  first,  then 
man's  work,  that's  the  order  of  mundane  importance  to 
me.  And  if  you've  got  to  criticise  the  work,  for  God's 
sake  do  it  with  your  hand  on  the  man's  shoulder." 

"  Our  little  socialist,"  said  Ogilvy,  patting  Annan's 
blonde  head.  "  He  wants  to  love  everybody  and  every 
body  to  love  him,  especially  when  they're  ornamental  and 
feminine.  Yes?  No?  "  he  asked,  fondly  coddling  Annan, 
who  submitted  with  a  bored  air  and  tried  to  kick  his  shins. 

Later,  standing  in  a  chance  group  on  the  sidewalk 
before  scattering  to  their  several  occupations,  Burleson 
said: 

"  That's  a  winner  of  a  model — that  Miss  West.  I 
used  her  for  the  fountain  I'm  doing  for  Cardemon's 
sunken  garden.  I  never  saw  a  model  put  together  as 
she  is.  And  that's  going  some." 

44 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  She's  a  dream,"  said  Ogilvy — "  un  peu  sauvage 
— no  inclination  to  socialism  there,  Annan.  I  know  be 
cause  I  was  considering  the  advisability  of  bestowing 
upon  her  one  of  those  innocent,  inadvertent,  and  fas 
cinatingly  chaste  salutes — just  to  break  the  formality. 
She  wouldn't  have  it.  I'd  taken  her  to  the  theatre,  too. 
Girls  are  astonishing  problems." 

"  You're  a  joyous  beast,  aren't  you,  Sam?  "  observed 
Burleson. 

"  I  may  be  a  trifle  joyous.  I  tried  to  explain  that 
to  her,  but  she  wouldn't  listen.  Heaven  knows  my  in 
tentions  are  child-like.  I  liked  her  because  she's  the 
sort  of  girl  you  can  take  anywhere  and  not  queer 
yourself  if  you  collide  with  your  fiancee — visiting  rela 
tive  from  'Frisco,  you  know.  She's  equipped  to  imper 
sonate  anything  from  the  younger  set  to  the  prune  and 
pickle  class." 

"  She  certainly  is  a  looker,"  nodded  Annan. 

"  She  can  deliver  the  cultivated  goods,  too,  and  make 
a  perfectly  good  play  at  the  unsophisticated  intellect 
ual,"  said  Ogilvy  with  conviction.  "  And  it's  a  rare 
combination  to  find  a  dream  that  looks  as  real  at  the 
Opera  as  it  does  in  a  lobster  palace.  But  she's  no  so 
cialist,  Harry — she'll  ride  in  a  taxi  with  you  and  sit 
up  half  the  night  with  you,  but  it's  nix  for  getting 
closer,  and  the  frozen  Fownes  for  the  chaste  embrace — 
that's  all." 

"  She's  a  curious  kind  of  girl,"  mused  Burleson ; — 
"  seems  perfectly  willing  to  go  about  with  you ; — en j  oys 
it  like  one  of  those  bread-and-butter  objects  that  the 
department  shops  call  a  '  Miss.' ' 

Annan  said :  "  The  girl  is  unusual,  everyway.  You 
don't  know  where  to  place  her.  She's  a  girl  without  a 

45 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


caste.     I  like  her.     I  made  some  studies  from  her ;  Kelly 
let  me." 

"  Does  Kelly  own  her?  "  asked  Burleson,  puffing  out 
his  chest. 

"  He  discovered  her.     He  has  first  call." 

Allaire,  who  had  come  up,  caught  the  drift  of  the 
conversation. 

"  Oh,  hell,"  he  said,  in  his  loud,  careless  voice,  "  any 
body  can  take  Valerie  West  to  supper.  The  town's  full 
of  her  kind." 

"Have  you  taken  her  anywhere?"  asked  Annan, 
casually. 

Allaire  flushed  up :  "  I  haven't  had  time."  He  added 
something  which  changed  the  fixed  smile  on  his  sym 
metrical,  highly  coloured  face  into  an  expression  not  en 
tirely  agreeable. 

"  The  girl's  all  right,"  said  Burleson,  reddening. 
"  She's  damn  decent  to  everybody.  What  are  you  talk 
ing  about,  Allaire?  Kelly  will  put  a  head  on  you !  " 

Allaire,  careless  and  assertive,  shrugged  away  the 
rebuke  with  a  laugh : 

"  Neville  is  one  of  those  professional  virgins  we 
read  about  in  our  neatly  manicured  fiction.  He's  what 
is  known  as  the  original  mark.  Jezebel  and  Potiphar's 
wife  in  combination  with  Salome  and  the  daughters  of 
Lot  couldn't  disturb  his  confidence  in  them  or  in  him 
self.  And — in  my  opinion — he  paints  that  way,  too." 
And  he  went  away  laughing  and  swinging  his  athletic 
shoulders  and  twirling  his  cane,  his  hat  not  mathemat 
ically  straight  on  his  handsome,  curly  head. 

"  There  strides  a  joyous  bounder,"  observed  Ogilvy. 

"  Curious,"  mused  Annan.  "  His  family  is  oldest 
New  York.  You  see  'em  that  way,  at  times." 

46 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Burleson,  who  came  from  New  England,  grunted  his 
scorn  for  Manhattan,  ancient  or  recent,  and,  nodding  a 
brusque  adieu,  walked  away  with  ponderous  and  power 
ful  strides.  And  the  others  followed,  presently,  each  in 
pursuit  of  his  own  vocation,  Annan  and  Ogilvy  remaining 
together  as  their  common  destination  was  the  big  new 
studio  building  which  they  as  well  as  Neville  inhabited. 

Passing  Neville's  door  they  saw  it  still  ajar,  and 
heard  laughter  and  a  piano  and  gay  voices. 

"  Hi !  "  exclaimed  Ogilvy,  softly,  "  let's  assist  at  the 
festivities.  Probably  we're  not  wanted,  but  does  that 
matter,  Harry  ?  " 

"  It  merely  adds  piquancy  to  our  indiscretion,"  said 
Annan,  gravely,  following  him  in  unannounced — "  Oh, 
hello,  Miss  West !  Was  that  you  playing  ?  Hello,  Rita  " 
— greeting  a  handsome  blonde  young  girl  who  stretched 
out  a  gloved  hand  to  them  both  and  nodded  amiably. 
Then  she  glanced  upward  where,  perched  on  his  ladder, 
big  palette  curving  over  his  left  elbow,  Neville  stood 
undisturbed  by  the  noise  below,  outlining  great  masses 
of  clouds  on  a  canvas  where  a  celestial  company,  sketched 
in  from  models,  soared,  floated,  or  hung  suspended,  cra 
dled  in  mid  air  with  a  vast  confusion  of  wide  wings 
spreading,  fluttering,  hovering,  beating  the  vast  ethereal 
void,  all  in  pursuit  of  a  single  exquisite  shape  darting 
up  into  space. 

"  What's  all  that,  Kelly?  Leda  chased  by  swans?  " 
asked  Ogilvy,  with  all  the  disrespect  of  cordial  appre 
ciation. 

"  It's  the  classic  game  of  follow  my  Leda,"  observed 
Annan. 

"  Oh — oh !  "  exclaimed  Valerie  West,  laughing ; 
"  such  a  wretched  witticism,  Mr.  Annan !  " 

47 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Your  composition  is  one  magnificent  vista  of  legs, 
Kelly,"  insisted  Ogilvy.  "  Put  pants  on  those  swans." 

Neville  merely  turned  and  threw  an  empty  paint 
tube  at  him,  and  continued  his  cloud  outlining  with  un 
disturbed  composure. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Rita?  "  asked  Ogilvy,  drop 
ping  into  a  chair.  "  Nobody  sees  you  any  more." 

"  That's  because  nobody  went  to  the  show,  and  that's 
why  they  took  it  off,"  said  Rita  Tevis,  resentfully.  "  I 
had  a  perfectly  good  part  which  nobody  crabbed  be 
cause  nobody  wanted  it,  which  suited  me  beautifully 
because  I  hate  to  have  anything  that  others  want.  Now 
there's  nothing  doing  in  the  millinery  line  and  I'm  ready 
for  suggestions." 

"  Dinner  with  me,"  said  Ogilvy,  fondly.  But  she 
turned  up  her  dainty  nose: 

"  Have  you  anything  more  interesting  to  offer,  Mr. 
Annan?" 

"  Only  my  heart,  hand,  and  Ogilvy's  fortune,"  said 
Annan,  regretfully.  "  But  I  believe  Archie  Allaire  was 
looking  for  a  model  of  your  type " 

"  I  don't  want  to  pose  for  Mr.  Allaire,"  said  the 
girl,  pouting  and  twirling  the  handle  of  her  parasol. 

But  neither  Annan  nor  Ogilvy  could  use  her  then; 
and  Neville  had  just  finished  a  solid  week  of  her. 

"  What  I'll  do,"  she  said  with  decision,  "  will  be  to 
telephone  John  Burleson.  I  never  knew  him  to  fail  a 
girl  in  search  of  an  engagement." 

"  Isn't  he  a  dear,"  said  Valerie,  smiling.  "  I  adore 
him." 

She  sat  at  the  piano,  running  her  fingers  lightly 
over  the  keyboard,  listening  to  what  was  being  said, 
watching  with  happy  interest  everything  that  was  going 

48 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


on  around  her,  and  casting  an  occasional  glance  over 
her  shoulder  and  upward  to  where  Neville  stood  at  work. 

"  John  Burleson,"  observed  Rita,  looking  fixedly  at 
Ogilvy,  "  is  easily  the  nicest  man  I  know." 

"Help!"  said  Ogilvy,  feebly. 

Valerie  glanced  across  the  top  of  the  piano,  laugh 
ing,  while  her  hands  passed  idly  here  and  there  over  the 
keys: 

"  Sam  can  be  very  nice,  Rita ;  but  you've  got  to 
make  him,"  she  said. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  a  really  interesting  man  who 
didn't  require  watching  ?  "  inquired  Annan,  mildly. 

Rita  surveyed  him  with  disdain :  "  Plenty." 

"  Don't  believe  it.  No  girl  has  any  very  enthusias 
tic  use  for  a  man  in  whom  she  has  perfect  confi 
dence." 

"  Here's  another  profound  observation,"  added 
Ogilvy ;  "  when  a  woman  loses  confidence  in  a  man  she 
finds  a  brand-new  interest  in  him.  But  when  a  man 
once  really  loses  confidence  in  a  woman,  he  never  regains 
it,  and  it's  the  beginning  of  the  end.  What  do  you 
think  about  that,  Miss  West?  " 

Valerie,  still  smiling,  struck  a  light  chord  or  two, 
considering : 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  would  be,"  she  said,  "  to  lose 
confidence  in  a  man  you  really  care  much  about.  I 
should  think  it  would  break  a  girl's  heart." 

"  It  doesn't,"  said  Rita,  with  supreme  contempt. 
"  You  become  accustomed  to  it." 

Valerie  leaned  forward  against  the  keyboard,  laugh 
ing: 

"  Oh,  Rita !  "  she  said,  "  what  a  confession !  " 

"  You  silly  child,"  retorted  Rita,  "  I'm  twenty-two. 
49 


THE   COMMON  L'AW 


Do  you  think  I  have  the  audacity  to  pretend  I've  never 
been  in  love?  " 

Ogilvy  said  with  a  grin :  "  How  about  you,  Miss 
West?  " — hoping  to  embarrass  her;  but  she  only  smiled 
gaily  and  continued  to  play  a  light  accompaniment  to 
the  fugitive  air  that  was  running  through  her  head. 

"  Don't  be  selfish  with  your  experiences,"  urged 
Ogilvy.  "  Come  on,  Miss  West !  '  Raus  mit  'em ! '  " 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  say,  Sam?  " 

"  That  you've  been  in  love  several  times." 

"  But  I  haven't." 

"Not  once?" 

Her  lowered  face  was  still  smiling,  as  her  pliant 
fingers  drifted  into  Grieg's  "  Spring  Song." 

"  Not  one  pretty  amourette  to  cheer  those  twenty- 
one  years  of  yours  ?  "  insisted  Ogilvy. 

But  his  only  answer  was  her  lowered  head  and  the 
faint  smile  edging  her  lips,  and  the  "  Spring  Song," 
low,  clear,  exquisitely  persistent  in  the  hush. 

When  the  last  note  died  out  in  the  stillness  Rita 
emphasised  the  finish  with  the  ferrule  of  her  parasol  and 
rose  with  decision : 

"  I  require  several  new  frocks,"  she  said,  "  and  how 
am  I  to  acquire  them  unless  I  pose  for  somebody? 
Good-bye,  Mr.  Neville — bye-bye!  Sam — good-bye,  Mr. 
Annan — good-bye,  dear," — to  Valerie — "  if  you've  noth 
ing  better  on  hand  drop  in  this  evening.  I've  a  duck 
of  a  new  hat." 

The  girl  nodded,  and,  as  Rita  Tevis  walked  out, 
turning  up  her  nose  at  Ogilvy  who  opened  the  door  for 
her,  Valerie  glanced  up  over  her  shoulder  at  Neville: 

"  I  don't  believe  you  are  going  to  need  me  to-day 
after  all,  are  you?"  she  asked. 

50 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  No,"  he  said,  absently.  "  I've  a  lot  of  things  to 
do.  You  needn't  stay,  Miss  West." 

"  Now  will  you  be  good !  "  said  Annan,  smiling  at 
her  with  his  humourous,  bantering  air.  And  to  his 
surprise  and  discomfiture  he  saw  the  least  trace  of  an 
noyance  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"  Come  up  to  the  studio  and  have  a  julep,"  he  said 
with  hasty  cordiality.  "  And  suppose  we  dine  together 
at  Arrowhead — if  you've  nothing  else  on  hand " 

She  shook  her  head — the  movement  was  scarcely  per 
ceptible.  The  smile  had  returned  to  her  lips. 

"Won't  you,  Miss  West?" 

"  Isn't  it  like  you  to  ask  me  when  you  heard  Rita's 
invitation?  You're  a  fraud,  Mr.  Annan." 

"  Are  you  going  to  sit  in  that  boarding-house  par 
lour  and  examine  Rita's  new  bonnet  all  this  glorious 
evening?  " 

She  laughed :  "  Is  there  any  man  on  earth  who  can 
prophesy  what  any  woman  on  earth  is  likely  to  do?  If 
you  can,  please  begin." 

Ogilvy,  hands  clasped  behind  him,  balancing  alter 
nately  on  heels  and  toes,  stood  regarding  Neville's  work. 
Annan  looked  up,  too,  watching  Neville  where  he  stood 
on  the  scaffolding,  busy  as  always,  with  the  only  recrea 
tion  he  cared  anything  for — work. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  were  infected  with  the  bacillus 
of  industry,"  broke  out  Ogilvy.  "  I  never  come  into 
this  place  but  I  see  Kelly  busily  doing  something." 

"  You're  an  inhuman  sort  of  brute,  Kelly !  "  added 
Annan.  "  What  do  you  work  that  way  for — money  ?  If 
I  had  my  way  I'd  spend  three  quarters  of  my  time  shoot 
ing  and  fishing  and  one  quarter  painting — and  I'm  as  de 
votedly  stuck  on  art  as  any  healthy  man  ought  to  be." 

51 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Art's  a  bum  mistress  if  she  makes  you  hustle  like 
that !  "  commented  Ogilvy.  "  Shake  her,  Kelly.  She's  a 
wampire  mit  a  sarpint's  tongue !  " 

"  The  worst  of  Kelly  is  that  he'd  rather  paint," 
said  Annan,  hopelessly.  "  It's  sufficient  to  sicken  the 
proverbial  cat." 

"  Get  a  machine  and  take  us  all  out  to  Woodman- 
ston  ?  "  suggested  Ogilvy.  "  It's  a  bee — u — tif ul  day, 
dearie !  " 

"  Get  out  of  here !  "  retorted  Neville,  painting  com 
posedly. 

"  Your  industry  saddens  us,"  insisted  Annan.  "  It's 
only  in  mediocrity  that  you  encounter  industry.  Genius 
frivols ;  talent  takes  numerous  vacations  on  itself " 

"  And  at  its  own  expense,"  added  Valerie,  demurely. 
"  I  knew  a  man  who  couldn't  finish  his  '  Spring  Acad 
emy  '  in  time :  and  he  had  all  winter  to  finish  it.  But  he 
didn't.  Did  you  ever  hear  about  that  man,  Sam?  " 

"  Me,"  said  Ogilvy,  bowing  with  hand  on  heart. 
"  And  with  that  cruel  j  ab  from  you — false  fair  one — 
I'll  continue  heavenward  in  the  elevator.  Come  on, 
Harry." 

Annan  took  an  elaborate  farewell  of  Valerie  which 
she  met  in  the  same  mock-serious  manner;  then  she 
waved  a  gay  and  dainty  adieu  to  Ogilvy,  and  reseated 
herself  after  their  departure.  But  this  time  she  settled 
down  into  a  great  armchair  facing  Neville  and  his  can 
vas,  and  lay  back  extending  her  arms  and  resting  the 
back  of  her  head  on  the  cushions. 

Whether  or  not  Neville  was  conscious  of  her  pres 
ence  below  she  could  not  determine,  so  preoccupied  did 
he  appear  to  be  with  the  work  in  hand.  She  lay  there 
in  the  pleasant,  mellow  light  of  the  great  windows, 

52 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


watching  him,  at  first  intently,  then,  soothed  by  the  soft 
spring  wind  that  fitfully  stirred  the  hair  at  her  temples, 
she  relaxed  her  attention,  idly  contented,  happy  with 
out  any  particular  reason. 

Now  and  then  a  pigeon  flashed  by  the  windows, 
sheering  away  high  above  the  sunlit  city.  Once,  wind- 
caught,  or  wandering  into  unaccustomed  heights,  high 
in  the  blue  a  white  butterfly  glimmered,  still  mounting 
to  infinite  altitudes,  fluttering,  breeze-blown,  a  silvery 
speck  adrift. 

"  Like  a  poor  soul  aspiring,"  she  thought  listlessly, 
watching  with  dark  eyes  over  which  the  lids  dropped 
lazily  at  moments,  only  to  lift  again  as  her  gaze  re" 
verted  to  the  man  above. 

She  thought  about  him,  too ;  she  usually  did — 
about  his  niceness  to  her,  his  never-to-be-forgotten  kind 
ness  ;  her  own  gratitude  to  him  for  her  never-to-be-for 
gotten  initiation. 

It  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  two  months  had 
passed  since  her  novitiate — that  two  months  ago  she 
still  knew  nothing  of  the  people,  the  friendships,  the 
interest,  the  surcease  from  loneliness  and  hopeless  ap 
athy,  that  these  new  conditions  had  brought  to  her. 

Had  she  known  Louis  Neville  only  two  months? 
Did  all  this  new  buoyancy  date  from  two  short  months' 
experience — this  quickened  interest  in  life,  this  happy 
development  of  intelligence  so  long  starved,  this  un 
folding  of  youth  in  the  atmosphere  of  youth?  She 
found  it  difficult  to  realise,  lying  there  so  contentedly,  so 
happily,  following,  with  an  interest  and  appreciation 
always  developing,  the  progress  of  the  work. 

Already,  to  herself,  she  could  interpret  much  that 
she  saw  in  this  new  world.  Cant  phrases,  bits  of  studio 
3  53 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


lore,  artists'  patter,  their  ways  of  looking  at  things, 
their  manners  of  expression,  their  mannerisms,  their 
little  vanities,  their  ideas,  ideals,  aspirations,  were  fast 
becoming  familiar  to  her.  Also  she  was  beginning  to 
notice  and  secretly  to  reflect  on  their  generic  character 
istics — their  profoundly  serious  convictions  concerning 
themselves  and  their  art  modified  by  surface  individual 
ities  ;  their  composite  lack  of  humour — exceptions  like 
Ogilvy  and  Annan,  and  even  Neville  only  proving  the 
rule ;  their  simplicity,  running  the  entire  gamut  from 
candour  to  stupidity ;  their  patience  which  was  half 
courage,  half  a  capacity  for  suffering;  and,  in  the  lat 
ter,  more  woman-like  than  like  a  man. 

Simplicity,  courage,  lack  of  humour — those  appeared 
to  be  the  fundamentals  characterising  the  ensemble — 
supplemented  by  the  extremes  of  restless  intelligence  and 
grim  conservatism. 

And  the  whole  fabric  seemed  to  be  founded  not  on 
industry  but  on  impulse  born  of  sentiment.  In  this 
new,  busy,  inspiring,  delightful  world  logic  became  a 
synthesis  erected  upon  some  inceptive  absurdity,  car 
ried  solemnly  to  a  picturesque  and  erroneous  conclu 
sion. 

She  had  been  aware,  in  stage  folk,  of  the  tendency 
to  sentimental  impulse ;  and  she  again  discovered  it  in 
this  new  world,  in  a  form  slightly  modified  by  the 
higher  average  of  reasoning  power.  In  both  professions 
the  heart  played  the  dominant  part  in  creator  and  cre 
ation.  The  exceptions  to  the  rule  were  the  few  in  either 
profession  who  might  be  called  distinguished. 

Neville  had  once  said  to  her :  "  Nothing  that  amounts 
to  anything  in  art  is  ever  done  accidentally  or 
merely  because  the  person  who  creates  it  loves  to  do  it." 

54 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


She  was  thinking  of  this,  now,  as  she  lay  there  watch 
ing  him. 

He  had  added :  "  Enthusiasm  is  excellent  while 
you're  dressing  for  breakfast;  but  good  pictures  are 
painted  in  cold  blood.  Go  out  into  the  back  yard  and 
yell  your  appreciation  of  the  universe  if  you  want  to; 
but  the  studio  is  a  silent  place;  and  a  blank  canvas  a 
mathematical  proposition." 

Could  this  be  true?  Was  all  the  beauty,  all  the 
joyous  charm,  all  the  splendour  of  shape  and  colour  the 
result  of  working  out  a  mathematical  proposition? 
Was  this  exquisite  surety  of  touch  and  handling,  of 
mass  and  line  composition,  all  these  lovely  depths  and 
vast  ethereal  spaces  superbly  peopled,  merely  the  log 
ical  result  of  solving  that  problem?  Was  it  all  clear, 
limpid,  steady,  nerveless  intelligence ;  and  was  nothing 
due  to  the  chance  and  hazard  of  inspiration? 

Gladys,  the  cat,  walked  in,  gently  flourishing  her  tail, 
hesitated,  looked  around  with  narrowing  green-jewelled 
eyes,  and,  ignoring  the  whispered  invitation  and  the  out 
stretched  hand,  leaped  lightly  to  a  chair  and  settled 
down  on  a  silken  cushion,  paws  and  tail  folded  under 
her  jet-black  body. 

Valerie  reproached  her  in  a  whisper,  reminding  her 
of  past  caresses  and  attentions,  but  the  cat  only  blinked 
at  her  pleasantly. 

On  a  low  revolving  stand  at  Valerie's  elbow  lay  a 
large  lump  of  green  modelling  wax.  This  wax  Neville 
sometimes  used  to  fashion,  with  his  facile  hands,  little 
figures  sketched  from  his  models.  These  he  arranged 
in  groups  as  though  to  verify  the  composition  on  the 
canvas  before  him,  and  this  work  and  the  pliant  material 
which  he  employed  had  for  her  a  particular  and  never- 

55 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


flagging  interest.  And  now,  without  thinking,  purely 
instinctively,  she  leaned  forward  and  laid  her  hand 
caressingly  on  the  lump  of  wax.  There  was  something 
about  the  yielding,  velvety  texture  that  fascinated  her, 
as  though  in  her  slim  fingers  some  delicate  nerves 
were  responding  to  the  pleasure  of  contact. 

For  a  while  she  moulded  little  cubes  and  pyramids, 
pinched  out  bread-crumb  chickens  and  pigs  and  cats. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  little  wax  kitten, 
Gladys  ?  "  she  whispered,  holding  it  up  for  the  cat's 
inspection.  Gladys  regarded  it  without  interest  and 
resumed  her  pleasant  contemplation  of  space. 

Valerie,  elbows  on  knees,  seated  at  the  revolving 
stool  with  all  the  nai've  absorption  of  a  child  construct 
ing  mud  pies,  began  to  make  out  of  the  fascinating 
green  wax  an  image  of  Gladys  dozing. 

Time  fled  away  in  the  studio ;  intent,  absorbed,  she 
pinched  little  morsels  of  wax  from  the  lump  and  pushed 
them  into  place  with  a  snowy,  pink-tipped  thumb,  or 
with  the  delicate  nail  of  her  forefinger  removed  super 
fluous  material. 

Stepping  noiselessly  so  not  to  disturb  Neville  she 
made  frequent  journeys  around  to  the  other  side  of  the 
cat,  sometimes  passing  sensitive  fingers  over  silky  feline 
contours,  which  research  inspired  a  loud  purring. 

As  she  worked  sometimes  she  talked  under  her  breath 
to  herself,  to  Gladys,  to  Neville: 

"  I  am  making  a  perfectly  good  cat,  Valerie,"  she 
whispered.  "Gladys,  aren't  you  a  little  bit  flattered? 
I  suppose  you  think  it's  honour  enough  to  belong  to 
that  man  up  there  on  the  scaffolding.  I  imagine  it 
is ;  he  is  a  very  wonderful  man,  Gladys,  very  high 
above  us  in  intellect  as  he  is  in  body.  He  doesn't  pay 

56 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


very  much  attention  to  you  and  me  down  here  on  the 
floor;  he's  just  satisfied  to  own  us  and  be  amiable  to 
us  when  he  thinks  about  us. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  in  any  critical  or  reproachful 
sense,  Gladys.  Don't  you  dare  think  I  do — not  for 
one  moment !  Do  you  hear  me  ?  Well  then !  If  you 
are  stupid  enough  to  misunderstand  me  I'll  put  a  per 
fectly  horrid  pair  of  ears  on  you!  .  .  .  I've  made  a 
very  dainty  pair  of  ears  for  you,  dear ;  I  only  said 
that  to  frighten  you.  You  and  I  like  that  man  up 
there — tremendously,  don't  we?  And  we're  very  grate 
ful  to  him  for — for  a  great  many  happy  moments — 
and  for  his  unfailing  kindness  and  consideration.  .  .  . 
You  don't  mind  posing  for  me;  you  wear  fur.  But  I 
didn't  wear  anything,  dear,  when  I  first  sat  to  him  as 
a  novice;  and,  kitty,  I  was  a  fortunate  girl  in  my 
choice  of  the  man  before  whom  I  was  to  make  a  debut. 
And  I " 

The  rattle  of  brushes  and  the  creak  of  the  scaffold 
ing  arrested  her:  Neville  was  coming  down  for  a  floor 
view  of  his  work. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  pleasantly,  noticing  for  the  first 
time  that  she  was  still  in  the  studio. 

"  Have  I  disturbed  you,  Mr.  Neville?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  You  never  do  any  more  than  does 
Gladys."  He  glanced  absently  at  the  cat,  then,  facing 
his  canvas,  backed  away  from  it,  palette  in  hand. 

For  ten  minutes  he  examined  his  work,  shifting  his 
position  from  minute  to  minute,  until  the  change  of 
positions  brought  him  backed  up  beside  Valerie,  and 
his  thigh  brushing  her  arm  made  him  aware  of  her. 
Glancing  down  with  smiling  apology  his  eye  fell  on 
the  wax,  and  was  arrested.  Then  he  bent  over  the  work 

57 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


she  had  done,  examining  it,  twirled  the  top  of  the  stool, 
and  inspected  it  carefully  from  every  side. 

"Have  you  ever  studied  modelling,  Miss  West?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  blushing,  "  you  must  know  that 
I  haven't."  And  looked  up  expecting  to  see  laughter 
in  his  eyes ;  and  saw  only  the  curiosity  of  interest. 

"  How  did  you  know  how  to  start  this  ?  " 

"  I  have  often  watched  you." 

"  Is  that  all  the  instruction  you've  ever  had  in 
modelling?  " 

She  could  not  quite  bring  herself  to  believe  in  his 
pleasant  seriousness : 

"  Y-yes,"  she  admitted,  "  except  when  I  have 
watched  John  Burleson.  But — this  is  simply  rotten — 
childish— isn't  it?" 

"  No,"  he  said  in  a  matter  of  fact  tone,  "  it's  inter 
esting." 

"  Do  you  really  think — mean " 

He  looked  down  at  her,  considering  her  while  the 
smile  that  she  knew  and  liked  best  and  thought  best 
suited  to  his  face,  began  to  glimmer ;  that  amused,  boy 
ish,  bantering  smile  hinting  of  experience  and  wisdom 
delightfully  beyond  her. 

"  I  really  think  that  you're  a  very  unusual  girl," 
he  said.  "  I  don't  want  to  spoil  you  by  telling  you  so 
every  minute." 

"  You  don't  spoil  me  by  telling  me  so.  Sometimes 
I  think  you  may  spoil  me  by  not  telling  me  so." 

"  Miss  West !  You're  spoiled  already !  I'm  throw 
ing  bouquets  at  you  every  minute !  You're  about  the 
only  girl  \vho  ever  sat  for  me  with  whom  I  talk  un 
reservedly  and  incessantly." 

"Really,  Mr.  Neville?" 
58 


THE    COMMON  LAW 


"  Yes — really,  Mr.  Neville,"  he  repeated,  laughing 
— "  you  bad,  spoiled  little  beauty !  You  know  devilish 
well  that  if  there's  any  intellectual  space  between  you 
and  me  it's  purely  a  matter  of  circumstance  and  op 
portunity." 

"  Do  you  think  me  silly  enough  to  believe  that !  " 

"  I  think  you  clever  enough  to  know  it  without  my 
telling  you." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  that." 

She  was  still  smiling  but  in  the  depths  of  her  eyes 
he  felt  that  the  smile  was  not  genuine. 

"  Sec  here,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  you  to  think 
that  I  don't  mean  what  I  say.  I  do.  You're  as  in 
telligent  a  woman  as  I  ever  knew.  I've  known  girls 
more  cultivated  in  general  and  in  particular,  but,  I  say 
again,  that  is  the  hazard  of  circumstance.  Is  all  clear 
between  us  now^  Miss  West  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  held  out  his  hand;  she  glanced  up,  smiled,  and 
laid  her  own  in  it.  And  they  shook  hands  heartily. 

"  Good  business,"  he  said  with  satisfaction.  "  Don't 
ever  let  anything  threaten  our  very  charming  accord. 
The  moment  you  don't  approve  of  anything  I  say  or 
do  come  straight  to  me  and  complain — and  don't  let 
me  divine  it  in  your  eyes,  Miss  West." 

"Did  you?" 

"  Certainly  I  did.  Your  lips  were  smiling  but  in 
your  eyes  was  something  that  did  not  corroborate  your 
lips." 

"  Yes.  .  .   .  But  how  could  you  see  it?  " 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  it's  part  of  my  business  to 
notice  such  things."  He  seated  himself  on  the  arm  of 
her  chair  and  bent  over  the  wax  model,  his  shoulder 

59 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


against  hers.  And  the  chance  contact  meant  nothing  to 
either:  but  what  he  said  about  men  and  things  in  the 
world  was  inevitably  arousing  the  intelligence  in  her 
to  a  gratitude,  a  happiness,  at  first  timid,  then  stirring 
subtly,  tremulously,  toward  passionate  response. 

No  man  can  do  that  to  a  girl  and  leave  the  higher 
side  of  her  indifferent  or  unresponsive.  What  he  had 
aroused — what  he  was  awakening  every  day  in  her  was 
what  he  must  some  day  reckon  with.  Loyalty  is  born 
of  the  spirit,  devotion  of  the  mind;  and  spiritual  in 
telligence  arouses  fiercer  passions  than  the  sensuous 
emotions  born  of  the  flesh. 

Leaning  there  above  the  table,  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
his  light  finger  tips  caressing  the  wax  model  which  she 
had  begun,  he  told  her  clearly,  and  with  the  engaging 
candour  which  she  already  had  begun  to  adore  in  him, 
all  about  what  she  had  achieved  in  the  interesting  trifle 
before  them — explained  to  her  wherein  she  had  failed 
not  only  to  accomplish  but  to  see  correctly — wherein 
she  had  seen  clearly  and  wrought  intelligently. 

He  might  have  been  talking  to  a  brother  sculptor — 
and  therein  lay  the  fascination  of  this  man — for  her — 
that,  and  the  pains  he  always  took  with  her — which 
courtesy  was  only  part  of  him — part  of  the  wonder  of 
this  man ;  of  his  unerring  goodness  in  all  things  to  her. 

Listening,  absorbed  in  all  that  he  said  she  still  was 
conscious  of  a  parallel  thread  of  thought  accompanying 
— a  tiny  filament  of  innocent  praise  in  her  heart  that 
chance  had  given  her  this  man  to  listen  to  and  to  heed 
and  talk  to  and  to  think  about. 

"  I  won't  touch  what  you've  done,  Miss  West,"  he 
said,  smilingly;  "but  just  take  a  pinch  of  wax — that 
way !  —  and  accent  that  relaxed  flank  muscle !  .  .  . 

60 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Don't  be  afraid ;  watch  the  shape  of  the  shadows.  .  .  . 
That's  it!  Do  you  see?  Never  be  afraid  of  dealing 
vigorously  with  your  subject.  Every  modification  of 
the  first  vigorous  touch  is  bound  to  weaken  and  some 
times  to  emasculate.  ...  I  don't  mean  for  you  to 
parade  crudity  and  bunches  of  exaggerated  muscle  as 
an  ultimate  expression  of  vigour.  Only  the  devotee 
of  the  obvious  is  satisfied  with  that  sort  of  result;  and 
our  exhibitions  reek  with  them.  But  there  is  no  reason 
why  the  satin  skin  and  smooth  contour  of  a  naked  child 
shouldn't  express  virility  and  vigour — no  reason  why 
the  flawless  delicacy  of  Venus  herself  should  not,  if 
necessary,  express  violence  unexaggerated  and  without 
either  distortion  or  lack  of  finish." 

He  glanced  across  at  the  dozing  cat : 

"  Under  that  silky  black  fur  there  are  bones  and 
fibres  and  muscles.  Don't  exaggerate  them  and  call 
your  task  finished ;  merely  remember  always  that  they're 
there  framing  and  padding  the  velvet  skin.  More  is 
done  by  skilful  inference  than  by  parading  every  ab 
stract  fact  you  know  and  translating  the  sum-ac 
cumulative  of  your  knowledge  into  the  over-accented 
concrete.  Reticence  is  a  kind  of  vigour.  It  can  even 
approach  violence.  The  mentally  garrulous  kill  their 
own  inspiration.  Inadequacy  loves  to  lump  things  and 
gamble  with  chance  for  effective  results." 

He  rose,  walked  over  and  examined  Gladys,  touched 
her  contemplatively  with  the  button  of  his  mahl-stick, 
and  listened  absently  to  her  responsive  purr.  Then, 
palette  still  in  hand,  he  sat  down  opposite  Valerie,  gaz 
ing  at  her  in  that  detached  manner  which  some  mistook 
for  indifference : 

"  There  are,  I  think,  two  reasons  for  failure  in 
61 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


art,"  he  said,  "  excess  of  creative  emotion,  excess  of 
psychological  hair-splitting.  The  one  produces  the 
normal  and  lovable  failures  which  decorate  our  art 
exhibitions ;  the  other  results  in  those  curious  products 
which  amuse  the  public  to  good-humoured  contempt — 
I  mean  those  pictures  full  of  violent  colour  laid  on  in 
streaks,  in  great  sweeps,  in  patches,  in  dots.  The 
painter  has  turned  half  theorist,  half  scientist;  the 
theories  of  the  juxtaposition  of  colour,  and  the  science 
of  complementary  colours,  engrosses  his  attention.  He 
is  no  longer  an  artist ;  he  is  a  chemist  and  physiologist 
and  an  artisan. 

"  Every  now  and  then  there  is  a  revolt  from  the  ac 
cepted  order  of  things.  New  groups  form,  sometimes 
damning  what  they  call  the  artificial  lighting  of  the 
studio,  sometimes  exclaiming  against  the  carnival  of 
harmonious  or  crude  colour  generally  known  as  fi  plein 
air.'  Impressionists  scorn  the  classic,  and  vice  versa. 
But,  Miss  West,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all  schools  are 
as  good  as  all  religions. 

"  To  speak  of  studio  lighting  as  artificial  and  un 
worthy  is  silly.  It  is  pretty  hard  to  find  anything 
really  artificial  in  the  world,  indoors,  or  out,  or  even 
in  the  glare  of  the  footlights.  I  think  the  main  idea 
is  that  a  man  should  prefer  doing  what  the  public 
calls  his  work,  to  any  other  form  of  recreation — should 
use  enough  reason — not  too  much — enough  inspira 
tion — but  watching  himself  at  every  brush  stroke;  and 
finally  should  feel  physically  unfettered — that  is,  have 
the  a  b  c,  the  drudgery,  the  artisan's  part  of  the 
work  at  his  finger  tips.  Then,  if  he  does  what  makes 
him  happy,  whether  in  a  spirit  of  realism  or  roman 
ticism,  he  can  safely  leave  the  rest  to  Fate." 

62 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


He  looked  at  her,  curiously  for  a  moment,  then  a 
smile  wholly  involuntary  broke  over  his  face : 

"  Lord !  What  a  lecture !  And  you  listened  to  all 
that  nonsense  like  an  angel ! " 

The  dreamy  absorption  died  out  in  her  eyes ;  she 
clasped  her  hands  on  her  knee,  looked  down,  then  up 
at  him  almost  irritably : 

"  Please  go  on,  Mr.  Neville." 

"  Not  much.  I've  a  few  stunts  to  execute  aloft 
there " 

He  contemplated  her  in  amused  silence,  which  be 
came  more  serious : 

"  You  have  talent,  Miss  West.  Artistic  talent  is 
not  unusual  among  Americans,  but  patience  is.  That 
is  one  reason  why  talent  accomplishes  so  little  in  this 
country." 

"  Isn't  another  reason  that  patience  is  too  expensive 
to  be  indulged  in  by  talent  ?  " 

He  laughed :  "  That  is  perfectly  true.  The  maj  or- 
ity  of  us  have  to  make  a  living  before  we  know 
how." 

"  Did  you  have  to  do  that?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't." 

"  You  were  fortunate  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was — perhaps.  .   .  .  I'm  not  sure." 

She  touched  the  lump  of  •  green  wax  gravely,  ab 
sently.  He  remained  looking  at  her,  busy  with  his 
own  reflections. 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  a  chance  to  study  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"Study?    What?" 

"  Sculpture — any  old  thing !  Would  you  like  to 
try?" 

63 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  What  chance  have  I  for  such  expensive  amuse 
ments  as  study  ?  "  she  laughed. 

"  I'll  be  responsible  for  you." 

"  You?  "  — in  blank  surprise. 

"  I'll  attend  to  the  material  part  of  it,  if  you  like. 
I'll  see  that  you  can  afford  the — patience." 

"  Mr.  Neville,  I  don't  understand." 

"What  don't  you  understand?"  he  asked,  lazily 
humorous. 

"  Do  you  mean — that  you  offer  me — an  oppor 
tunity " 

*  Yes ;  an  opportunity  to  exercise  patience.  It's 
an  offer,  Miss  West.  But  I'm  perfectly  certain  you 
won't  take  it." 

For  a  long  while  she  sat,  her  cheek  resting  on  one 
palm,  looking  fixedly  into  space.  Then  she  stirred, 
glanced  up,  blushed  vividly,  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
crossed  to  where  he  sat. 

"  I've  been  considering  your  offer,"  she  said,  striving 
to  speak  without  effort. 

"  I'll  bet  you  won't  accept  it ! " 

'*  You  win  your  wager,  Mr.  Neville." 

"  I  wonder  why?  "  he  said  with  his  bantering  smile: 
"  but  I  think  I  know.  Talent  in  America  is  seldom 
intellectually  ambitious." 

To  his  amazement  and  vexation  tears  sprang  to  her 
eyes ;  she  said,  biting  her  lower  lip :  "  My  ambition  is 
humble.  I  care — more  than  anything  in  the  world — to 
be  of  use  to — to  your  career." 

Taken  completely  by  surprise  he  said,  "  Nonsense," 
and  rose  to  confront  her  where  she  stood  wholly  charm 
ing  in  her  nervous,  flushed  emotion: 

"  It  isn't  nonsense,  Mr.  Neville ;  it  is  my  happiness. 
64 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  don't  believe  you  realise  what  your  career  means 
to  me.  I  would  not  willingly  consider  anything  that 
might  interrupt  my  humble  part  in  it — in  this  happy 


''For  a  long  while  she  sat,  her  cheek  resting  on  one  palm,  looking 
fixedly  into  space." 


companionship.  .  .  .  After  all,  happiness  is  the  essen 
tial.  You  said  so  once.  I  am  happier  here  than  I 
possibly  could  be  in  an  isolation  where  I  might  perhaps 

65 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


study — learn — "  Her  voice  broke  deliciously  as  he  met 
her  gaze  in  cool,  curious  disapproval. 

"  You  can't  understand  it !  "  she  said,  flushing  al 
most  fiercely.  "  You  can't  comprehend  what  the  daily 
intimacy  with  a  man  of  your  sort  has  done — is  doing 
:  for  me  every  moment  of  my  life.  How  can  you  under 
stand?  You,  who  have  your  own  place  in  the  world 
— in  life — in  this  country — in  this  city !  You,  who 
have  family,  friends,  clubs,  your  social  life  in  city  and 
country,  and  abroad.  Life  is  very  full  for  you — has 
always  been.  But — what  I  am  now  learning  in  contact 
with  you  and  with  the  people  to  whom  you  have  in 
troduced  me — is  utterly  new  to  me — and — very — pleas 
ant.  ...  I  have  tasted  it;  I  cannot  live  without  it 
now." 

She  drew  a  deep  quick  breath,  then,  looking  up  at 
him  with  a  tremulous  smile: 

"  What  would  you  think  if  I  told  you  that,  until 
Sam  took  me,  I  had  never  even  been  inside  a  theatre 
except  when  I  was  engaged  by  Schindler?  It  is  per 
fectly  true.  Mother  did  not  approve.  Until  I  went 
with  John  Burleson  I  had  never  ever  been  in  a  restau 
rant;  until  I  was  engaged  by  Schindler  I  had  never 
seen  the  city  lighted  at  night — I  mean  where  the 
theatres  and  cafes  and  hotels  are.  .  .  .  And,  Mr.  Ne 
ville,  until  I  came  here  to  you,  I  had  never  had  an 
opportunity  to  talk  to  a  cultivated  man  of  my  own 
age — I  mean  the  kind  of  man  you  are." 

She  dropped  her  eyes,  considering,  while  the  smile 
still  played  faintly  with  the  edges  of  her  lips;  then: 

"  Is  it  very  hard  for  you  to  realise  that  what  is  aiv 
ordinary  matter  of  course  to  the  young  of  my  age  is, 
to  me,  all  a  delightful  novelty? — that  I  am  enjoying  to 

66 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


a  perfectly  heavenly  degree  what  to  you  and  others  may 
be  commonplace  and  uninteresting?  All  I  ask  is  to 
be  permitted  to  enjoy  it  while  I  am  still  young  enough. 
I — I  must!  I  really  need  it,  Mr.  Neville.  It  seems, 
at  moments,  as  if  I  could  never  have  enough — after  the 
years — where  I  had — nothing." 

Neville  had  begun  walking  to  and  fro  in  front  of 
her  with  the  quick,  decisive  step  that  characterised  his 
movements  ;  but  his  restlessness  seemed  only  to  emphasise 
the  attention  he  concentrated  on  every  word  she  spoke ; 
and,  though  he  merely  glanced  at  her  from  moment  to 
moment,  she  was  conscious  that  the  man  now  under 
stood,  and  was  responding  more  directly  to  her  than 
ever  before  in  their  brief  and  superficial  acquaint 
ance. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  away  and  study,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  perfectly  dear  of  you  to  offer  it — I — there  is 
no  use  in  trying  to  thank  you ' 

"  Valerie !  » 

"  What !  "  she  said,  startled  by  his  use  of  her  given 
name  for  the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance. 

He  said,  smilingly  grave :  "  You  didn't  think  there 
was  a  string  attached  to  anything  I  offered?  " 

"A— a  string?" 

"Did  you?" 

She  blushed  hotly :  "  No,  of  course  not." 

"  It's  all  right  then,"  he  nodded ;  but  she  began  to 
think  of  that  new  idea  in  a  confused,  startled,  helpless 
sort  of  way. 

"  How  could  you  think  that  of  me?  "  she  faltered. 

"I  didn't " 

'*  You — it  must  have  been  in  your  mind " 


"  I  wanted  to  be  sure  it  wasn't  in  yours- 
67 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  You  ought  to  have  known !  Haven't  you  learned 
anything  at  all  about  me  in  two  months?  " 

"  Do  you  think  any  man  can  learn  anything  about 
anybody  in  two  months  ?  "  he  asked,  lightly. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I've  learned  a  good  deal  about  you — 
enough,  anyway,  not  to  attribute  anything — un 
worthy — — " 

"  You  silly  child ;  you've  learned  nothing  about  me 
if  that's  what  you  think  you've  discovered." 

"  I  have  discovered  it ! "  she  retorted,  tremulously ; 
"  I've  learned  horrid  things  about  other  men,  too — and 
they're  not  like  you !  " 

"  Valerie !  Valerie !  I'm  precisely  like  all  the  rest 
— my  selfishness  is  a  little  more  concentrated  than 
theirs,  that's  the  only  difference.  For  God's  sake  don't 
make  a  god  of  me." 

She  sat  down  on  the  head  of  the  sofa,  looking 
straight  at  him,  pretty  head  lowered  a  trifle  so  that  her 
gaze  was  accented  by  the  lovely  level  of  her  brows : 

"  I've  long  wanted  to  have  a  thorough  talk  with 
you,"  she  said.  "  Have  you  got  time  now?  " 

He  hesitated,  controlling  his  secret  amusement  under 
an  anxious  gravity  as  he  consulted  the  clock. 

"  Suppose  you  give  me  an  hour  on  those  figures  up 
there?  The  light  will  be  too  poor  to  work  by  in  another 
hour.  Then  we'll  have  tea  and  '  thorough  talks.'  " 

"  All  right,"  she  said,  calmly. 

He  picked  up  palette  and  mahl-stick  and  mounted 
to  his  perch  on  the  scaffolding;  she  walked  slowly  into 
the  farther  room,  stood  motionless  a  moment,  then  rais 
ing  both  arms  she  began  to  unhook  the  collar  of  her 
gown. 

When  she  was  ready  she  stepped  into  her  sandals, 
68 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


threw  the  white  wool  robe  over  her  body,  and  tossed  one 
end  across  her  bare  shoulder. 

He  descended,  aided  her  aloft  to  her  own  eyrie, 
walked  across  the  planking  to  his  own,  and  resumed  pal 
ette  and  brushes  in  excellent  humour  with  himself,  talk 
ing  gaily  while  he  was  working : 

"  I'm  devoured  by  curiosity  to  know  what  that 
'  thorough  talk  '  of  yours  is  going  to  be  about.  You 
and  I,  in  our  briefly  connected  careers,  have  discussed 
every  subject  on  earth,  gravely  or  flippantly,  and  what 
in  the  world  this  *  thorough  talk '  is  going  to  resemble 
is  beyond  me " 

"  It  might  have  to  do  with  your  lack  of  ceremony — 
a  few  minutes  ago,"  she  said,  laughing  at  him. 

"My— what?" 

"  Lack  of  ceremony.     You  called  me  Valerie." 

"  You  can  easily  revenge  that  presumption,  you 
know." 

"  I  think  I  will— Kelly." 

He  smiled  as  he  painted: 

"  I  don't  know  why  the  devil  they  call  me  Kelly," 
he  mused.  "  No  episode  that  I  ever  heard  of  is  respon 
sible  for  that  Milesian  misnomer.  Quand  meme!  It 
sounds  prettier  from  you  than  it  ever  did  before.  I'd 
rather  hear  you  call  me  Kelly  than  Caruso  sing  my  name 
as  Algernon." 

"  Shall  I  really  call  you  Kelly?  " 

"  Sure  thing!    Why  not?  "    ' 

"  I  don't  know.  You're  rather  celebrated — to  have 
a  girl  call  you  Kelly." 

He  puffed  out  his  chest  in  pretence  of  pompous  sat 
isfaction  : 

"  True,  child.     Good  men  are  scarce — but  the  good 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


and  great  are  too  nearly  extinct  for  such  familiarity. 
Call  me  Mr.  Kelly." 

"  I  won't.  You  are  only  a  big  boy,  anyway — Louis 
Neville — and  sometimes  I  shall  call  you  Kelly,  and  some 
times  Louis,  and  very  occasionally  Mr.  Neville." 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  absently—"  only  hold  that  dis- 
tractingly  ornamental  head  and  those  incomparable 
shoulders  a  trifle  more  steady,  please — rest  solidly  on  the 
left  leg — let  the  right  hip  fall  into  its  natural  position — 
that's  it.  Thank  you." 

Holding  the  pose  her  eyes  wandered  from  him  and 
his  canvas  to  the  evening  tinted  clouds  already  edged 
with  deeper  gold.  Through  the  sheet  of  glass  above 
she  saw  a  shred  of  white  fleece  in  mid-heaven  turn  to  a 
pale  pink. 

"  I  wonder  why  you  asked  me  to  tea  ?  "  she  mused. 

"  What?  "     He  turned  around  to  look  at  her. 

"  You  never  before  asked  me  to  do  such  a  thing," 
she  said,  candidly.  "  You're  an  absent-minded  man,  Mr. 
Neville." 

"  It  never  occurred  to  me,"  he  retorted,  amused. 
"  Tea  is  weak-minded." 

"  It  occurred  to  me.  That's  what  part  of  my  *  thor 
ough  talk  '  is  to  be  about ;  your  carelessness  in  noticing 
me  except  professionally." 

He  continued  working,  rapidly  now;  and  it  seemed 
to  her  as  though  something — a  hint  of  the  sombre — 
had  come  into  his  face — nothing  definite — but  the  smile 
was  no  longer  there,  and  the  brows  were  slightly  knitted. 

Later  he  glanced  up  impatiently  at  the  sky :  the  sum 
mer  clouds  wore  a  deeper  rose  and  gold. 

"  We'd  better  have  our  foolish  tea,"  he  said,  ab 
ruptly,  driving  his  brushes  into  a  bowl  of  black  soap 

70 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


and  laying  aside  his  palette  for  his  servant  to  clean 
later. 

For  a  while,  not  noticing  her,  he  fussed  about  his 

canvas,  using  a  knife  here,  a  rag  there,  passing  to  and 

fro  across  the  scaffolding,  oblivious  of  the  flight  of  time, 

,  until  at  length  the  waning  light  began  to  prophesy  dusk, 

and  he  came  to  himself  with  a  guilty  start. 

Below,  in  the  studio,  Valerie  sat,  fully  dressed  except 
for  hat  and  gloves,  head  resting  in  the  padded  depths 
of  an  armchair,  watching  him  in  silence. 

"  I  declare,"  he  said,  looking  down  at  her  contritely, 
"  I  never  meant  to  keep  you  all  this  time.  Good  Lord ! 
Have  I  been  puttering  up  here  for  an  hour  and  a  half ! 
It's  nearly  eight  o'clock!  Why  on  earth  didn't  you 
speak  to  me,  Valerie  ?  " 

"  It's  a  braver  girl  than  I  am  who'll  venture  to  in 
terrupt  you  at  work,  Kelly,"  she  said,  laughingly.  "  I'm 
a  little  afraid  of  you." 

"  Nonsense !  I  wasn't  doing  anything.  My  Heaven ! 
— can  it  be  eight  o'clock?  " 

"  It  is.  ...  You  said  we  were  going  to  have  tea." 

"  Tea !  Child,  you  can't  have  tea  at  eight  o'clock ! 
I'm  terribly  sorry  " — he  came  down  the  ladder,  vexed 
with  himself,  wiping  the  paint  from  his  hands  with  a 
bunch  of  cheese  cloth — "  I'm  humiliated  and  ashamed, 
Miss  West.  Wait  a  moment " 

He  walked  hastily  through  the  next  room  into  his 
small  suite  of  apartments,  washed  his  hands,  changed 
his  painter's  linen  blouse  for  his  street  coat,  and  came 
back  into  the  dim  studio. 

"  I'm  really  sorry,  Valerie,"  he  said.  "  It  was  rot 
ten  rude  of  me." 

"  So  am  I  sorry.  It's  absurd,  but  I  feel  like  a  per- 
71 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


fectly  unreasonable  kid  about  it.  ...  You  never  before 
asked  me — and  I — wanted  to — stay — so  much " 

"  Why  didn't  you  remind  me,  you  foolish  child !  " 

"  Somehow  I  couldn't.  ...  I  wanted  you  to  think 
of  it." 

"  Well,  I'm  a  chump.  .  .  ."  He  stood  before  her 
in  the  dim  light ;  she  still  reclined  in  the  armchair,  not 
looking  at  him,  one  arm  crook'd  over  her  head  and  the 
fingers  closed  tightly  over  the  rosy  palm  which  was 
turned  outward,  resting  across  her  forehead. 

For  a  few  moments  neither  spoke ;  then : 

"  I'm  horridly  lonely  to-night,"  she  said,  abruptly. 

"  Why,  Valerie  !     What  a— an  unusual " 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  ...  I  suppose  you  are 
too  hungry  to  want  to  talk  now." 

"N-no,  I'm  not."  He  began  to  laugh:  "What's 
the  matter,  Valerie?  What  is  on  your  mind?  Have  you 
any  serious  fidgets,  or  are  you  just  a  spoiled,  pretty 
girl?" 

"  Spoiled,  Kelly.  There's  nothing  really  the  matter. 
I  just  felt  like — what  you  asked  me  to  do " 

She  jumped  up  suddenly,  biting  her  lips  with  vexa 
tion  :  "  I  don't  know  what  I'm  sa}dng — except  that  it's 
rather  rude  of  me — and  I've  got  to  go  home.  Good 
night — I  think  my  hat  is  in  the  dressing-room " 

He  stood  uneasily  watching  her  pin  it  before  the 
mirror;  he  could  just  see  her  profile  and  the  slender, 
busy  hands  white  in  the  dusk. 

When  she  returned,  slowly  drawing  on  her  long 
gloves,  she  said  to  him  with  composure: 

"  Some  day  ask  me  again.  I  really  would  like  it — 
if  you  would." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  you  could  stand  the  ex- 
72 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


citement  of  taking  a  cup  of  weak  tea  with  me,"  he  said, 
jestingly — "after  all  those  jolly  dinners  and  suppers 
and  theatres  and  motor  parties  that  I  hear  about?  " 

She  nodded  and  held  out  her  hand  with  decision: 

"  Good-night." 

He  retained  her  hand  a  moment,  not  meaning  to — > 
not  really  intending  to  ask  her  what  he  did  ask  her. 
And  she  raised  her  velvet  eyes  gravely: 

"  Do  you  really  want  me  ?  " 

"  Yes.  ...  I  don't  know  why  I  never  asked  you  be 
fore » 

"  It  was  absurd  not  to,"  she  said,  impulsively ;  "  I'd 
have  gone  anywhere  with  you  the  first  day  I  ever  knew 
you!  Besides,  I  dress  well  enough  for  you  not  to  be 
ashamed  of  me." 

He  began  to  laugh :  "  Valerie,  you  funny  little 
thing !  You  funny,  funny  little  thing !  " 

"  Not  in  the  slightest,"  she  retorted,  sedately.  "  I'm 
having  a  heavenly  time  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  and 
I  have  so  wanted  you  to  be  part  of  it  ...  of  course 
you  are  part  of  it,"  she  added,  hastily — "  most  of  it !  I 
only  meant  that  I — I'd  like  to  be  a  little  in  your  other 
life — have  you  enter  mine,  a  little — just  so  I  can  re 
member,  in  years  to  come,  an  evening  with  you  now  and 
then — to  see  things  going  on  around  us — to  hear  what 
you  think  of  things  that  we  see  together.  .  .  .  Because, 
with  you,  I  feel  so  divinely  free,  so  unembarrassed,  so 
entirely  off  my  guard.  ...  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I 
don't  have  a  splendid  time  with  the  others  even  when  I 
have  to  watch  them;  I  do — and  even  the  watching  is 
fun " 

The  child-like  audacity  and  laughing  frankness,  the 
confidence  of  her  attitude  toward  him  were  delightfully 

73 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


refreshing.  He  looked  into  her  pretty,  eager,  engaging 
face,  smiling,  captivated. 

"  Valerie,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  something — will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  I  can." 

"  I'm  more  or  less  of  a  painting  machine.  I've  made 
myself  so,  deliberately — to  the  exclusion  of  other  inter 
ests.  I  wonder  "•  —he  looked  at  her  musingly — "  whether 
I'm  carrying  it  too  far  for  my  own  good." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  mean — is  there  anything  machine-made  about  my 
work  ?  Does  it  lack — does  it  lack  anything  ?  " 

"  No !  "  she  said,  indignantly  loyal.  "  Why  do  you 
ask  me  that?  " 

"  People — some  people  say  it  does  lack — a  certain 
quality." 

She  said  with  supreme  contempt :  "  You  must  not 
believe  them.  I  also  hear  things — and  I  know  it  is  an 
unworthy  jealousy  that 

"  What  have  you  heard  ?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  Absurdities.  I  don't  wish  even  to  think  of 
them " 

"  I  wish  you  to.  Please.  Such  things  are  some 
times  significant." 

"  But — is  there  any  significance  in  what  a  few  en 
vious  artists  say — or  a  few  silly  models " 

"  More  significance  in  what  they  say  than  in  a  whole 
chorus  of  professional  critics." 

"  Are  you  serious  ?  "  she  asked,  astonished. 

"  Perfectly.  Without  naming  anybody  or  betraying 
any  confidence,  what  have  you  heard  in  criticism  of  my 
work?  It's  from  models  and  brother  painters  that  the 
real  truth  comes — usually  distorted,  half  told,  mali 
ciously  hinted  sometimes — but  usually  the  germ  of  truth 

74 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


is  to  be  found  in  what  they  say,  however  they  may 
choose  to  say  it." 

Valerie  leaned  back  against  the  door,  hands  clasped 
behind  her,  eyebrows  bent  slightly  inward  in  an  unwill 
ing  effort  to  remember. 

Finally  she  said  impatiently : "  They  don't  know  what 
they're  talking  about.  They  all  say,  substantially,  the 
same  thing " 

"What  is  that  thing?" 

"  Why — oh,  it's  too  silly  to  repeat — but  they  say 
iJRre  is  nothing  lovable  about  your  work — that  it's  in 
humanly  and  coldly  perfect — too — too — "  she  flushed 
and  laughed  uncertainly — "  '  too  damn  omniscient '  is 
what  one  celebrated  man  said.  And  I  could  have  boxed 
his  large,  thin,  celebrated  ears  for  him !  " 

"  Go  on,"  he  nodded;  "  what  else  do  they  say?  " 

"  Nothing.  That's  all  they  can  find  to  say — all  they 
dare  say.  You  know  what  they  are — what  other  men 
are — and  some  of  the  younger  girls,  too.  Not  that  I 
don't  like  them — and  they  are  very  sweet  to  me — only 
they're  not  like  you " 

"  They're  more  human.     Is  that  it,  Valerie  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that !  " 

"  Yes,  you  do.  You  mean  that  the  others  take  life 
in  a  perfectly  human  manner — find  enjoyment,  amuse 
ment  in  each  other,  in  a  hundred  things  outside  of  their 
work.  They  act  like  men  and  women,  not  like  a  paint 
ing  machine ;  if  they  experience  impulses  and  emotions 
they  don't  entirely  stifle  'em.  They  have  time  and  lei 
sure  to  foregather,  laugh,  be  silly,  discuss,  banter,  flirt, 
make  love,  and  cut  up  all  the  various  harmless  capers 
that  humanity  is  heir  to.  That's  what  you  mean,  but 
you  don't  realise  it.  And  you  think,  and  they  think,  that 

75 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


my  solemn  and  owlish  self -suppression  is  drying  me  up, 
squeezing  out  of  me  the  essence  of  that  warm,  lovable 
humanity  in  which,  they  say,  my  work  is  deficient.  They 
say,  too,  that  my  inspiration  is  lacking  in  that  it  is  not 
founded  on  personal  experience ;  that  I  have  never  known 
any  deep  emotion,  any  suffering,  any  of  the  sterner, 
darker  regrets — anything  of  that  passion  which  I 
sometimes  depict.  They  say  that  the  personal  and 
convincing  element  is  totally  absent  because  I  have 
not  lived  " — he  laughed — "  and  loved ;  that  my  work 
lacks  the  one  thing  which  only  the  self-knowledge  of 
great  happiness  and  great  pain  can  lend  to  it.  ... 
And — I  think  they  are  right,  Valerie.  What  do  you 
think?  " 

The  girl  stood  silent,  with  lowered  eyes,  reflecting 
for  a  moment.  Then  she  looked  up  curiously. 

"  Have  you  never  been  very  unhappy  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  toothache  once." 

She  said,  unsmiling :  "  Haven't  you  ever  suffered 
mentally?" 

"  No — not  seriously.  Oh,  I've  regretted  little  secret 
meannesses — bad  temper,  jealousy 

"  Nothing  else?  Have  you  never  experienced  deep 
unhappiness — through  death,  for  example  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  God.  My  father  and  mother  and  sister 
are  living.  ...  It  is  rather  strange,"  he  added,  partly 
to  himself,  "  that  the  usual  troubles  and  sorrows  have 
so  far  passed  me  by.  I  am  twenty-seven ;  there  has 
never  been  a  death  in  my  family,  or  among  my  intimate 
friends." 

"  Have  you  any  intimate  friends  ?  " 

"  Well — perhaps  not — in  the  strict  sense.  I  don't 
confide." 

76 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Have  you  never  cared,  very  much,  for  anybody — 
any  woman  ?  " 

"  Not  sentimentally,"  he  returned,  laughing.  "  Do 
you  think  that  a  good  course  of  modern  flirtation — a 
thorough  schooling  in  the  old-fashioned  misfortunes  of 
true  love  would  inject  into  my  canvases  that  elusively 
occult  quality  they're  all  howling  for  ?  " 

She  remained  smilingly  silent. 

"  Perhaps  something  less  strenuous  would  do,"  he 
said,  mischievously — "  a  pretty  amourette? — just  one  of 
those  gay,  frivolous,  Louis  XV  affairs  with  some  daint 
ily  receptive  girl,  not  really  improper,  but  only  ultra 
fashionable.  Do  you  think  that  would  help  some, 
Valerie?" 

She  raised  her  eyes,  still  smiling,  a  little  incredulous, 
very  slightly  embarrassed: 

"  I  don't  think  your  painting  requires  any  such  sac 
rifices  of  you,  Mr.  Neville.  .  .  .  Are  you  going  to  take 
me  somewhere  to  dinner?  I'm  dreadfully  hungry." 

"  You  poor  little  girl,  of  course  I  am.  Besides,  you 
must  be  suffering  under  the  terrible  suppression  of  that 
'  thorough  talk  '  which  you " 

"  It  doesn't  really  require  a  thorough  talk,"  she 
said ;  "  I'll  tell  you  now  what  I  had  to  say.  No,  don't 
interrupt,  please!  I  want  to — please  let  me — so  that 
nothing  will  mar  our  enjoyment  of  each  other  and  of 
the  gay  world  around  us  when  we  are  dining.  ...  It  is 
this:  Sometimes — once  in  a  while — I  become  absurdly 
lonely,  which  makes  me  a  fool,  temporarily.  And — will 
you  let  me  telephone  you  at  such  times? — just  to  talk 
to  you — perhaps  see  you  for  a  minute  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  You  know  my  telephone  number.  Call 
me  up  whenever  you  like." 

77 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Could  I  see  you  at  such  moments  ?  I — there's  a — 
some — a  kind  of  sentiment  about  me — when  I'm  very 
lonely  ;  and  I've  been  foolish  enough  to  let  one  or  two  men 
see  it — in  fact  I've  been  rather  indiscreet — silly — with  a 
man — several  men — now  and  then.  A  lonely  girl  is  eas 
ily  sympathised  with — and  rather  likes  it ;  and  is  inclined 
to  let  herself  go  a  little.  ...  I  don't  want  to.  .  .  .  And  at 
times  I've  done  it.  ...  Sam  Ogilvy  nearly  kissed  me, 
which  really  doesn't  count — does  it?  But  I  let  Harry 
Annan  do  it,  once.  ...  If  I'm  weak  enough  to  drift  into 
such  silliness  I'd  better  find  a  safeguard.  I've  been 
thinking — thinking — that  it  really  does  originate  in  a 
sort  of  foolish  loneliness  .  .  .  not  in  anything  worse. 
So  I  thought  I'd  have  a  thorough  talk  with  you  about 
it.  I'm  twenty-one — with  all  my  experience  of  life  and 
of  men  crowded  into  a  single  winter  and  spring.  I  have 
as  friends  only  the  fewr  people  I  have  met  through  you. 
I  have  nobody  to  see  unless  I  see  them — nowhere  to  go 
unless  I  go  where  they  ask  me.  ...  So  I  thought  I'd 
ask  you  to  let  me  depend  a  little  on  you,  sometimes — as 
a  refuge  from  isolation  and  morbid  thinking  now  and 
then.  And  from  other  mischief — for  which  I  apparently 
have  a  capacity — to  judge  by  what  I've  done — and  what 
I've  let  men  do  already." 

She  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm  in  sudden  and 
impulsive  confidence: 

"  That's  my  '  thorough  talk.'  I  haven't  any  one 
else  to  tell  it  to.  And  I've  told  you  the  worst."  She 
smiled  at  him  adorably :  "  And  now  I  am  ready  to  go 
out  with  you,"  she  said, — "  go  anywhere  in  the  world 
with  you,  Kelly.  And  I  am  going  to  be  perfectly  happy 
— if  you  are." 


CHAPTER    III 

ONE  day  toward  the  middle  of  June  Valerie  did  not 
arrive  on  time  at  the  studio.  She  had  never  before  been 
late. 

About  two  o'clock  Sam  Ogilvy  sauntered  in,  a  skull 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  hair  rumpled : 

"  It's  that  damn  mermaid  of  mine,"  he  said,  "  can't 
you  come  up  and  look  at  her  and  tell  me  what's  the 
trouble,  Kelly?" 

"  Not  now.     Who's  posing?  " 

"  Rita.  She's  in  a  volatile  humour,  too — fidgets ; 
denies  fidgeting ;  reproaches  me  for  making  her  keep 
quiet;  says  I  draw  like  a  bum  chimney — no  wonder  my 
work's  rotten !  Besides,  she's  in  a  tub  of  water,  wearing 
that  suit  of  fish-scales  I  had  made  for  Violet  Cliland, 
and  she  says  it's  too  tight  and  she's  tired  of  the  job, 
anyway.  Fancy  my  mental  condition." 

"  Oh,  she  won't  throw  you  down.  Rita  is  a  good 
sport,"  said  Neville. 

"  I  hope  so.  It's  an  important  picture.  Really, 
Kelly,  it's  great  stuff — a  still,  turquoise-tinted  pool 
among  wet  rocks ;  ebb  tide ;  a  corking  little  mermaid 
caught  in  a  pool  left  by  the  receding  waves — all  tones 
and  subtle  values,"  he  declared,  waving  his  arm. 

"  Don't  paint  things  in  the  air  with  your  thumb," 
said  Neville,  coldly.  "  No  wonder  Rita  is  nervous." 

"  Rita  is  nervous,"  said  Ogilvy,  "  because  she's  been 
on  a  bat  and  supped  somewhere  until  the  coy  and 

79 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


rosy  dawn  chased  her  homeward.  And  your  pretty 
paragon,  Miss  West,  was  with  the  party— 

"What?"  said  Neville,  sharply. 

"  Sure  thing !  Harry  Annan,  Rita,  Burleson, 
Valerie — and  I  don't  know  who  else.  They  feasted 
somewhere  east  of  Coney — where  the  best  is  like  the 
wiirst — and  ultimately  became  full  of  green  corn,  clams, 
watermelon,  and  assorted  fidgets.  .  .  .  Can't  you  come 
up  and  look  at  my  picture  ?  " 

Neville  got  up,  frowning,  and  followed  Ogilvy  up 
stairs. 

Rita  Tevis,  swathed  in  a  blanket  from  which 
protruded  a  dripping  tinselled  fish's  tail,  sat  discon 
solately  on  a  chair,  knitting  a  red-silk  necktie  for  some 
party  of  the  second  part,  as  yet  unidentified. 

"  Mr.  Neville,"  she  said,  "  Sam  has  been  quarrelling 
with  me  every  minute  while  I'm  doing  my  best  in  that 
horrid  tub  of  water.  If  anybody  thinks  it's  a  com 
fortable  pose,  let  them  try  it !  I  wish — I  wish  I 
could  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  Sam  afloat  in 
this  old  fish-scale  suit  with  every  spangle  sticking 
into  him  and  his  legs  cramped  into  this  unspeakable 
tail!" 

She  extended  a  bare  arm,  shook  hands,  pulled  up 
her  blanket  wrap,  and  resumed  her  knitting  with  a 
fierce  glance  at  Ogilvy,  who  had  attempted  an  appeal 
ing  smile. 

Neville  stood  stock-still  before  the  canvas.  The 
picture  promised  well ;  it  was  really  beautiful — the  com 
bined  result  of  several  outdoor  studies  now  being  clev 
erly  worked  up.  But  Ogilvy's  pictures  never  kept  their 
promise. 

"  Also,"  observed  Rita,  reproachfully,  "  /  posed  en 
80 


"Neville  stood  stock-still  before  the  canvas." 

plein  air  for  those  rainbow  sketches  of  his — and  though 
it  was  a  lonely  cove  with  a  cunningly  secluded  little 
crescent  beach,  I  was  horribly  afraid  of  somebody  com 
ing — and  besides  I  got  most  cruelly  sun-burned " 

81 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Rita!  You  said  you  enjoyed  that  excursion!" 
exclaimed  Ogilvy,  with  pathos. 

"  I  said  it  to  flatter  that  enormous  vanity  of  yours, 
Sam.  I  had  a  perfectly  wretched  time." 

"  What  sort  of  a  time  did  you  have  last  evening?  " 
inquired  Neville,  turning  from  the  picture. 

"  Horrid.  Everybody  ate  too  much,  and  Valeric 
spooned  with  a  new  man — I  don't  remember  his  name. 
She  went  out  in  a  canoe  with  him  and  they  sang  '  She 
kissed  him  on  the  gangplank  when  the  boat  moved 
out.'  " 

Neville,  silent,  turned  to  the  picture  once  more. 
In  a  low  rapid  voice  he  indicated  to  Ogilvy  where 
matters  might  be  differently  treated,  stepped  back  a 
few  paces,  nodded  decisively,  and  turned  again  to 
Rita: 

"  I've  been  waiting  for  Miss  West,"  he  said.  "  Have 
you  any  reason  to  think  that  she  might  not  keep  her 
appointment  this  morning?  " 

"  She  had  a  headache  when  we  got  home,"  said 
Rita.  "  She  stayed  with  me  last  night.  I  left  her 
asleep.  Why  don't  you  ring  her  up.  You  know  my 
number." 

"  All  right,"  said  Neville,  shortly,  and  went  out. 

When  he  first  tried  to  ring  her  up  the  wire  was 
busy.  It  was  a  party  wire,  yet  a  curious  uneasiness 
set  him  pacing  the  studio,  smoking,  brows  knitted,  until 
he  decided  it  was  time  to  try  again. 

This  time  he  recognised  her  distant  voice :  "  Hello 
—hello!  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Neville?  " 

"  Valerie !  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  Kelly  ?  I  hoped  you  would  call  me 
up.  I  knew  it  must  be  you!  " 

82 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Yes,  it  is.     What  the  deuce  is  the  matter?     Are 
you  ill?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  " 
"What,  then?" 


"When  he  first  tried  to  ring  her  up  the  wire  was  busy." 

"  I  was  so  sleepy,  Kelly.  Please  forgive  me.  We 
had  such  a  late  party — and  it  was  daylight  before  I 
went  to  bed.  Please  forgive  me;  won't  you?  " 

"  When  I  called  you  a  few  minutes  ago  your  wire 
was  busy.  Were  you  conversing  ?  " 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Yes.     I  was  talking  to  Jose  Querida." 

"H'm!" 

"  Jose  was  with  us  last  evening.  ...  I  went  canoe 
ing  with  him.  He  just  called  me  up  to  ask  how  I 
felt." 

"Hunh!" 

"What?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Are  you  annoyed,  Louis  ?  " 

"No!" 

"  Oh,  I  thought  it  sounded  as  though  you  were 
irritated.  I  am  so  ashamed  at  having  overslept.  Who 
told  you  I  was  here?  Oh,  Rita,  I  suppose.  Poor  child, 
she  was  more  faithful  than  I.  The  alarm  clock  woke 
her  and  she  was  plucky  enough  to  get  up — and  I 
only  yawned  and  thought  of  you,  and  I  was  so  sleepy ! 
Are  you  sure  you  do  forgive  me?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  You  don't  say  it  very  kindly." 

"  I  mean  it  cordially,"  he  snapped.  He  could  hear 
her  sigh :  "  I  suppose  you  do."  Then  she  added : 

"  I  am  dressing,  Kelly.  I  don't  wish  for  any  break 
fast,  and  I'll  come  to  the  studio  as  soon  as  I  can — 

"  Take  your  breakfast  first !  " 

"  No,  I  really  don't  care  for— 

"  All  right.     Come  ahead." 

"  I  will.     Good-bye,  Kelly,  dear." 

He  rang  off,  picked  up  the  telephone  again,  called 
the  great  Hotel  Regina,  and  ordered  breakfast  sent  to 
his  studio  immediately. 

When  Valerie  arrived  she  found  silver,  crystal,  and 
snowy  linen  awaiting  her  with  chilled  grapefruit, 

84 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


African  melon,  fragrant  coffee,  toast,  and  pigeon's 
eggs  poached  on  Astrakan  caviar. 

"  Oh,  Louis !  "  she  exclaimed,  enraptured ;  "  I  don't 
deserve  this — but  it  is  perfectly  dear  of  you — and  I 
am  hungry !  .  .  .  Good-morning,"  she  added,  shyly  ex 
tending  a  fresh  cool  hand ;  "  I  am  really  none  the  worse 
for  wear  you  see." 

That  was  plain  enough.  In  her  fresh  and  youthful 
beauty  the  only  sign  of  the  night's  unwisdom  was  in 
the  scarcely  perceptible  violet  tint  under  her  thick 
lashes.  Her  skin  was  clear  and  white  and  dewy  fresh, 
her  dark  eyes  unwearied — her  gracefully  slender  pres 
ence  fairly  fragrant  with  health  and  vigour. 

She  seated  herself — offered  to  share  with  him  in 
dumb  appeal,  urged  him  in  delicious  pantomime,  and 
smiled  encouragingly  as  he  reluctantly  found  a  chair 
beside  her  and  divided  the  magnificent  melon. 

"Did  you  have  a  good  time?"  he  asked,  trying 
not  to  speak  ungraciously. 

"  Y-yes.  ...  It  was  a  silly  sort  of  a  time." 

"Silly?" 

"  I  was  rather  sentimental — with  Querida." 

He  said  nothing — grimly. 

"  I  told  you  last  night,  Louis.  Why  couldn't  you 
see  me?  " 

"  I  was  dining  out ;  I  couldn't." 

She  sipped  her  chilled  grapefruit  meditatively: 

"  I  hadn't  seen  you  for  a  week,"  she  laughed,  glanc 
ing  sideways  at  him,  "  and  that  lonely  feeling  began 
about  five  o'clock ;  and  I  called  you  up  at  seven  because 
I  couldn't  stand  it.  ...  But  you  wouldn't  see  me ;  and 
so  when  Rita  and  the  others  came  in  a  big  touring  car 
— do  you  blame  me  very  much  for  going  with  them?  " 
4  85 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  No." 

Her  expression  became  serious,  a  trifle  appealing: 
"  My  room  isn't  very  attractive,"  she  said,  timidly. 
"  It  is  scarcely  big  enough  for  the  iron  bed  and  one 
chair — and  I  get  so  tired  trying  to  read  or  sew  every 
evening  by  the  gas — and  it's  very  hot  in  there." 
"  Are  you  making  excuses  for  going?  " 
"  I  do  not  know.  .   .   .  Unless  people  ask  me,  I  have 
nowhere  to  go  except  to  my  room ;  and  when  a  girl  sits 
there  evening  after   evening  alone   it — it   is   not  very 

gay-" 

She  tried  the  rich,  luscious  melon  with  much  content, 
and  presently  her  smile  came  back : 

"  Louis,  it  was  a  funny  party.  To  begin  we  had 
one  of  those  terrible  clambakes — like  a  huge,  horrid 
feast  of  the  Middle  Ages — and  it  did  not  agree  with 
everybody — or  perhaps  it  was  because  we  weren't  mid 
dle-aged — or  perhaps  it  was  just  the  beer.  I  drank 
water;  so  did  the  beautiful  Jose  Querida.  ...  I  think 
he  is  pretty  nearly  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  saw; 
don't  you?" 

"  He's  handsome,  cultivated,  a  charming  conversa 
tionalist,  and  a  really  great  painter,"  said  Neville, 
drily. 

She  looked  absently  at  the  melon ;  tasted  it :  "  He 
is  very  romantic  .  .  .  when  he  laughs  and  shows  those 
beautiful,  even  teeth.  .  .  .  He's  really  quite  adorable, 
Kelly — and  so  gentle  and  considerate " 

"  That's  the  Latin  in  him." 

"  His  parents  were  born  in  New  York." 

She  sipped  her  coffee,  tried  a  pigeon  egg,  inquired 
what  it  was,  ate  it,  enchanted. 

"  How  thoroughly  nice  you  always  are  to  me, 
86 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Kelly !  "  she  said,  looking  up  in  the  engagingly  fearless 
way  characteristic  of  her  when  with  him. 

"  Isn't  everybody  nice  to  you  ?  "  he  said  with  a 
shrug  which  escaped  her  notice. 

"Nice?"  She  coloured  a  trifle  and  laughed.  "Not 
in  your  way,  Kelly.  In  the  sillier  sense  they  are — 
some  of  them." 

"  Even  Querida  ?  "  he  said,  carelessly. 

"  Oh,  just  like  other  men — generously  ready  for 
any  event.  What  self-sacrificing  opportunists  men  are! 
After  all,  Kelly,"  she  added,  slipping  easily  into  the 
vernacular,  "  it's  always  up  to  the  girl." 

"Is  it?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  I  had 
no  business  to  let  Querida's  arm  remain  around  me. 
But — there  was  a  moon,  Kelly." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  certainly  '  ?  " 

"  Because  there  was  one." 

'''But  you  say  it  in  a  manner — "  She  hesitated, 
continued  her  breakfast  in  leisurely  reflection  for  a 
while,  then: 

"Louis?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Am  I  too  frank  with  you  ?  " 

"Why?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  was  just  thinking.  I  tell  you 
pretty  nearly  everything.  If  I  didn't  have  you  to 
tell — have  somebody — "  She  considered,  with  brows 
slightly  knitted — "  if  I  didn't  have  somebody  to  talk 
to,  it  wouldn't  be  very  good  for  me.  I  realise  that." 

"  You  need  a  grandmother,"  he  said,  drily ;  "  and 
I'm  the  closest  resemblance  to  one  procurable." 

87 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


The  imagery  struck  her  as  humorous  and  she 
laughed. 

"  Poor  Kelly,"  she  said  aloud  to  herself,  "  he  is 
used  and  abused  and  imposed  upon,  and  in  revenge  he 
offers  his  ungrateful  tormentor  delicious  breakfasts. 
What  shall  his  reward  be? — or  must  he  await  it  in 
Paradise  where  he  truly  belongs  amid  the  martyrs  and 
the  blessed  saints !  " 

Neville  grunted. 

"  Oh,  oh!  such  a  post-Raphaelite  scowl!  Job  won't 
bow  to  you  when  you  go  aloft,  Kelly.  Besides,  polite 
martyrs  smile  pleasantly  while  enduring  torment.  .  .  . 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  to-day  ?  "  she  added, 
glancing  around  with  frank  curiosity  at  an  easel  which 
was  set  with  a  full-length  virgin  canvas. 

"  Portrait,"  he  replied,  tersely. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  surprised.  He  had  never  before 
painted  her  clothed. 

From  moment  to  moment,  as  she  leisurely  break 
fasted,  she  glanced  around  at  the  canvas,  interested  in 
the  new  idea  of  his  painting  her  draped;  a  trifle  per 
plexed,  too. 

"  Louis,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  quite  see  how  you're 
ever  going  to  find  a  purchaser  for  just  a  plain  portrait 
of  me." 

He  said,  irritably :  "  I  don't  have  to  work  for  a  liv 
ing  every  minute,  do  I?  For  Heaven's  sake  give  me  a 
day  off  to  study." 

"  But — it  seems  like  wasted  time " 

"What  is  wasted  time?" 

"  Why  just  to  paint  a  portrait  of  me  as  I  am.  Isn't 
it?  "  She  looked  up  smilingly,  perfectly  innocent  of 
any  self-consciousness.  "  In  the  big  canvases  for  the 

88 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Byzantine  Theatre  you  always  made  my  features  too  ra 
diant,  too  glorious  for  portraits.  It  seems  rather 
a  slump  to  paint  me  as  I  am — just  a  girl  in  street 
clothes." 

A  singular  expression  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  after  a  moment — "  just  a  girl  in 
street  clothes.  No  clouds,  no  sky,  no  diaphanous  drap 
eries  of  silk;  no  folds  of  cloth  of  gold;  no  gemmed 
girdles,  no  jewels.  Nothing  of  the  old  glamour,  the  old 
glory ;  no  sunburst  laced  with  mist ;  no  '  light  that 
never  was  on  sea  or  land.'  .  .  .  Just  a  young  girl  stand 
ing  in  the  half  light  of  my  studio.  .  .  .  And  by  God ! — 
if  I  can  not  do  it — the  rest  is  worthless." 

Amazed  at  his  tone  and  expression  she  turned 
quickly,  set  back  her  cup,  remained  gazing  at  him,  be 
wildered  by  the  first  note  of  bitterness  she  had  ever  heard 
in  his  voice. 

He  had  risen  and  walked  to  his  easel,  back  partly 
turned.  She  saw  him  fussing  with  his  palette,  colours, 
and  brushes,  watched  him  for  a  few  moments,  then  she 
went  away  into  the  farther  room  where  she  had  a  glass 
shelf  to  herself  with  toilet  requisites — a  casual  and  dainty 
gift  from  him. 

When  she  returned  he  was  still  bending  over  his 
colour-table ;  and  she  walked  up  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder — not  quite  understanding  why  she 
did  it. 

He  straightened  up  to  his  full  stature,  surprised, 
turning  his  head  to  meet  a  very  clear,  very  sweetly  dis 
turbed  gaze. 

"  Kelly,  dear,  are  you  unhappy  ?  " 

«  Why— no." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  little  discontented. 
89 


'Kelly,  dear,  are  you  unhappy?'" 


"  I  hope  I  am.     It's  a  healthy  sign." 

"Healthy?" 

"  Certainly.  The  satisfied  never  get  anywhere.  .  .  . 
That  Byzanite  business  has  begun  to  wear  on  my 
nerves." 

"  Thousands  and  thousands  of  people  have  gone  to 
see  it,  and  have  praised  it.  You  know  what  the  papers 

have  been  saying " 

90 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Under  her  light  hand  she  felt  the  impatient  move 
ment  of  his  shoulders,  and  her  hand  fell  away. 

"  Don't  you  care  for  it,  now  that  it's  finished?  "  she 
asked,  wondering. 

"  I'm  devilish  sick  of  it,"  he  said,  so  savagely  that 
every  nerve  in  her  recoiled  with  a  tiny  shock.  She  re 
mained  silent,  motionless,  awaiting  his  pleasure.  He  set 
his  palette,  frowning.  She  had  never  before  seen  him 
like  this. 

After  a  while  she  said,  quietly :  "  If  you  are  waiting 
for  me,  please  tell  me  what  you  expect  me  to  do,  because 
I  don't  know,  Kelly." 

"  Oh,  just  stand  over  there,"  he  said,  vaguely ;  "  just 
walk  about  and  stop  anywhere  when  you  feel  like 
stopping." 

She  walked  a  few  steps  at  hazard,  partly  turned  to 
look  back  at  him  with  a  movement  adorable  in  its  hesi 
tation. 

"  Don't  budge  !  "  he  said,  brusquely. 

"  Am  I  to  remain  like  this  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

He  picked  up  a  bit  of  white  chalk,  went  over  to  her, 
knelt  down,  and  traced  on  the  floor  the  outline  of  her 
shoes. 

Then  he  went  back,  and,  with  his  superbly  cool  as 
surance,  began  to  draw  with  his  brush  upon  the  un 
touched  canvas. 

From  where  she  stood,  and  as  far  as  she  could  deter 
mine,  he  seemed,  however,  to  work  less  rapidly  than 
usual — with  a  trifle  less  decision — less  precision.  An 
other  thing  she  noticed;  the  calm  had  vanished  from 
his  face.  The  vivid  animation,  the  cool  self-confidence, 
the  half  indolent  relapse  into  careless  certainty — all 

91 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


familiar  phases  of  the  man  as  she  had  so  often  seen  him 
painting — were  now  not  perceptible.  There  seemed  to 
be,  too,  a  curious  lack  of  authority  about  his  brush 
strokes  at  intervals — moments  of  grave  perplexity,  in 
decision  almost  resembling  the  hesitation  of  inexperience 
— and  for  the  first  time  she  saw  in  his  gray  eyes  the 
narrowing  concentration  of  mental  uncertainty. 

It  seemed  to  her  sometimes  as  though  she  were  look 
ing  at  a  total  stranger.  She  had  never  thought  of  him 
as  having  any  capacity  for  the  ordinary  and  lesser  ills, 
vanities,  and  vexations — the  trivial  worries  that  beset 
other  artists. 

"  Louis  ?  "  she  said,  full  of  curiosity. 

"  What  ?  "  he  demanded,  ungraciously. 

"  You  are  not  one  bit  like  yourself  to-day." 

He  made  no  comment.     She  ventured  again : 

"  Do  I  hold  the  pose  properly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thanks,"  he  said,  absently. 

"May  I  talk?" 

"  I'd  rather  you  didn't,  Valerie,  just  at  present." 

"  All  right,"  she  rejoined,  cheerfully ;  but  her  pretty 
eyes  watched  him  very  earnestly,  a  little  troubled. 

When  she  was  tired  the  pose  ended;  that  had  been 
their  rule ;  but  long  after  her  neck  and  back  and  thighs 
and  limbs  begged  for  relief,  she  held  the  pose,  reluctant 
to  interrupt  him.  When  at  last  she  could  endure  it  no 
longer  she  moved;  but  her  right  leg  had  lost  not  only 
all  sense  of  feeling  but  all  power  to  support  her ;  and 
down  she  came  with  a  surprised  and  frightened  little 
exclamation — and  he  sprang  to  her  and  swung  her  to 
her  feet  again. 

"  Valerie  !  You  bad  little  thing !  Don't  you  know 
enough  to  stop  when  you're  tired?  " 

92 


"He  picked  up  a  bit  of  white  chalk  .  .  .  and  traced  on  the  floor 
the  outline  of  her  shoes." 


"  I — didn't  know  I  was  so  utterly  gone,"  she  said, 
bewildered. 

He  passed  his  arm  around  her  and  supported  her 
93 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


to  the  sofa  where  she  sat,  demure,  a  little  surprised  at  her 
collapse,  yet  shyly  enjoying  his  disconcerted  attentions 
to  her. 

"  It's  your  fault,  Kelly.  You  had  such  a  queer  ex 
pression — not  at  all  like  you — that  I  tried  harder  than 
ever  to  help  you — and  fell  down  for  my  pains." 

"  You're  an  angel,"  he  said,  contritely,  "  but  a  silly 
one." 

"  A  scared  one,  Kelly — and  a  fallen  one."  She 
laughed,  flexing  the  muscles  of  her  benumbed  leg: 
"  Your  expression  intimidated  me.  I  didn't  recognise 
you;  I  could  not  form  any  opinion  of  what  was  going 
on  inside  that  very  stern  and  frowning  head  of 
yours.  If  you  look  like  that  I'll  never  dare  call  you 
Kelly." 

"  Did  I  seem  inhuman  ?  " 

"  N-no.  On  the  contrary — very  human — ordinary 
— like  the  usual  ill-tempered  artist  man,  with  whom  I 
have  learned  how  to  deal.  You  know,"  she  added,  teas- 
ingly,  "  that  you  are  calm  and  god-like,  usually — and 
when  you  suddenly  became  a  mere  mortal 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you,"  he  said;  "  I'll 
pick  you  up  and  put  you  to  bed." 

"  I  wish  you  would,  Kelly.  I  haven't  had  half 
enough  sleep." 

He  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  sofa :  "  Don't  talk 
any  more  of  that  god-like  business,"  he  growled,  "  or  I'll 
find  the  proper  punishment." 

"  Would  you  punish  me,  Kelly?  " 

"  I  sure  would." 

"If  I  displeased  you?" 

"  You  bet." 

"  Really?  "  She  turned  partly  toward  him,  half  in 
94 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


earnest.  "  Suppose — suppose — "  but  she  stopped  sud 
denly,  with  a  light  little  laugh  that  lingered  pleasantly 
in  the  vast,  still  room. 

She  said :  "  I  begin  to  think  that  there  are  two  Kellys 
— no,  one  Kelly  and  one  Louis.  Kelly  is  familiar  to 
me;  I  seem  to  have  known  him  all  my  life — the  happy 
part  of  my  life.  Louis  I  have  just  seen  for  the  first 
time — there  at  the  easel,  painting,  peering  from  me  to 
his  canvas  with  Kelly's  good-looking  eyes  all  narrow 
with  worry " 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  chattering  about,  Valerie?  " 

"  You  and  Kelly.  ...  I  don't  quite  know  which  I 
like  best — the  dear,  sweet,  kind,  clever,  brilliant,  imper 
sonal,  god-like  Kelly,  or  this  new  Louis — so  very  abrupt 
in  speaking  to  me " 

"  Valerie,  dear !  Forgive  me.  I'm  out  of  sorts  some 
how.  It  began — I  don't  know — waiting  for  you — won 
dering  if  you  could  be  ill — all  alone.  Then  that  ass, 
Sam  Ogilvy — oh,  it's  just  oversmoking  I  guess,  or — I 
don't  know  what." 

She  sat  regarding  him,  head  tipped  unconsciously  on 
one  side  in  an  attitude  suggesting  a  mind  concocting 
malice. 

"Louis?" 

"What?" 

"  You're  very  attractive  when  you're  god-like " 

"  You  little  wretch !  " 

"  But — you're  positively  dangerous  when  you're 
human." 

"Valerie!    I'll— 

"  The  great  god  Kelly,  or  the  fascinating,  fearsome, 
erring  Louis !  Which  is  it  to  be  ?  I've  an  idea  that  the 
time  is  come  to  decide !  " 

95 


i^M.lillr  Jilrifa^ 


"*I  will  call  you  a  god  if  I  like!'*' 

Fairly  radiating  a  charming  aura  of  malice  she  sat 
back,  nursing  one  knee,  distractingly  pretty  and  defiant, 
saying :  "  I  will  call  you  a  god  if  I  like !  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Valerie,"  he  said,  half  in  earnest; 
"  I've  played  grandmother  to  you  long  enough,  by 
Heck!" 

96 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


66  Oh,  Kelly,  be  lofty  and  Olympian !  Be  a  god  and 
shame  the  rest  of  us  !  " 

"  I'll  shamefully  resemble  one  of  'em  in  another  mo 
ment  if  you  continue  tormenting  me !  " 

"  Which  one,  great  one  ?  " 

"  Jupiter,  little  lady.  He  was  the  boss  philanderer 
you  know." 

"  What  is  a  philanderer,  my  Olympian  friend?  " 

"  Oh,  one  of  those  Olympian  divinities  who  always 
began  the  day  by  kissing  the  girls  all  around." 

"Before  breakfast?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  It's— after  breakfast,  Kelly." 

"  Luncheon  and  dinner  still  impend." 

"  Besides — I'm  not  a  bit  lonely  to-day.  .  .  .  I'm 
afraid  I  wouldn't  let  you,  Kel — I  mean  Louis." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  'Kelly'?" 

"  Kelly  is  too  god-like  to  kiss." 

"  Oh !  So  that's  the  difference !  Kelly  isn't  human ; 
Louis  is." 

"  Kelly,  to  me,"  she  admitted,  "  is  practically  kiss- 
less.  ...  I  haven't  thought  about  Louis  in  that  re- 
gard." 

"  Consider  the  matter  thoroughly." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  .to  ?  "  She  bent  her  head,  smiling. 
Then,  looking  up  with  enchanting  audacity: 

"  I  really  don't  know,  Mr.  Neville.  Some  day  when 
I'm  lonely — and  if  Louis  is  at  home  and  Kelly  is  out — • 
you  and  I  might  spend  an  evening  together  on  a  moon 
lit  lake  and  see  how  much  of  a  human  being  Louis 
can  be." 

She  laughed,  watching  him  under  the  dark  lashes, 
charming  mouth  mocking  him  in  every  curve. 

97 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Do  you  think  you're  likely  to  be  lonely  to-night?  " 
he  asked,  surprised  at  the  slight  acceleration  of  his 
pulses. 

"  No,  I  don't.  Besides,  you'd  be  only  the  great  god 
Kelly  to  me  this  evening.  Besides  that  I'm  going  to 
dinner  with  Querida,  and  afterward  we're  going  to  see 
the  <  Joy  of  the  Town  '  at  the  Folly  Theatre." 

"  I  didn't  know,"  he  said,  curtly.  For  a  few  mo 
ments  he  sat  there,  looking  interestedly  at  a  familiar 
door-knob.  Then  rising :  "  Do  you  feel  all  right  for 
posing?  " 

"  Yes." 

«  Alors " 

"  Allons,  mon  dieu !  "  she  laughed. 

Work  began.  She  thought,  watching  him  with 
sudden  and  unexpected  shyness,  that  he  seemed  even  more 
aloof,  more  preoccupied,  more  worried,  more  intent  than 
before.  In  this  new  phase  the  man  she  had  known  as 
a  friend  was  now  entirely  gone,  vanished!  Here  stood 
an  utter  stranger,  very  human,  very  determined,  very 
deeply  perplexed,  very  much  in  earnest.  Everything 
about  this  man  was  unknown  to  her.  There  seemed  to 
be  nothing  about  him  that  particularly  appealed  to  her 
confidence,  either;  yet  the  very  uncertainty  was  inter 
esting  her  now — intensely. 

This  other  phase  of  his  dual  personality  had  been 
so  completely  a  surprise  that,  captivated,  curious,  she 
could  keep  neither  her  gaze  from  him  nor  her  thoughts. 
Was  it  that  she  was  going  to  miss  in  him  the  other 
charm,  lose  the  delight  in  his  speech,  his  impersonal 
and  kindly  manner,  miss  the  comfortable  security  she 
had  enjoyed  with  him,  perhaps  after  some  half  gay, 
half  sentimental  conflict  with  lesser  men? 

98 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


What  was  she  to  expect  from  this  brand-new  in 
carnation  of  Louis  Neville?  The  delightful  indiffer 
ence,  fascinating  absent-mindedness  and  personal  neg 
lect  of  the  other  phase?  Would  he  be  god  enough  to 
be  less  to  her,  now?  Man  enough  to  be  more  than  other 
men  ?  For  a  moment  she  had  a  little  shrinking,  a  minia 
ture  panic  lest  this  man  turn  too  much  like  other  men. 
But  she  let  her  eyes  rest  on  him,  and  knew  he  would 
not.  Whatever  Protean  changes  might  yet  be  reserved 
for  her  to  witness,  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
man  was  a  man  apart,  different,  and  would  not  dis 
appoint  her  no  matter  what  he  turned  into. 

She  thought  to  herself :  "  If  I  want  Kelly  to  lean 
on,  he'll  surely  appear,  god-like,  impersonally  nice,  and 
kindly  as  ever;  if  I  want  Louis  to  torment  and  pro 
voke  and  flirt  with — a  little — a  very  little — I'm  quite 
sure  he'll  come,  too.  Whatever  else  is  contained  in 
Mr.  Neville  I  don't  know ;  but  I  like  him  separ 
ately  and  compositely,  and  I'm  happy  when  I'm  with 
him." 

With  which  healthy  conclusion  she  asked  if  she 
might  rest,  and  came  around  to  look  at  the  canvas. 

As  she  had  stood  in  silence  for  some  time,  he  asked 
her,  a  little  nervously,  what  she  thought  of  it. 

"  Louis — I  don't  know." 

"  Is  your  opinion  unfavourable?  " 

"  N-no.     I  am  like  that,  am  I  not?  " 

"  In  a  shadowy  way.     It  will  be  like  you." 

"  Am  I  as — interesting?  " 

"  More  so,"  he  said. 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  me — beautiful?  " 

"  Yes — or  cut  this  canvas  into  shreds." 

"  Oh-h !  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  soft  intake  of  breath ; 
99 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  would  you  have  the  heart  to  destroy  me  after  you've 
made  me?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do,  Valerie.  I  never  felt 
just  this  way  about  anything.  If  I  can't  paint  you — 
a  human,  breathing  you — with  all  of  you  there  on  the 
canvas — all  of  you,  soul,  mind,  and  body — all  of  your 
beauty,  your  youth,  your  sadness,  happiness — your 
errors,  your  nobility — you,  Valerie! — then  there's  no 
telling  what  I'll  do." 

She  said  nothing.  Presently  she  resumed  the  pose 
and  he  his  painting. 

It  became  very  still  in  the  sunny  studio. 


CHAPTER    IV 

IN  that  month  of  June,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
deliberately  active  career,  Neville  experienced  a  disincli 
nation  to  paint.  And  when  he  realised  that  it  was 
disinclination,  it  appalled  him.  Something — he  didn't 
understand  what — had  suddenly  left  him  satiated — and 
with  all  the  uneasiness  and  discontent  of  satiation  he 
forced  matters  until  he  could  force  no  further. 

He  had  commissions,  several,  and  valuable ;  and  let 
them  lie.  For  the  first  time  in  all  his  life  the  blank 
canvas  of  an  unexecuted  commission  left  him  untempted, 
unresponsive,  weary. 

He  had,  also,  his  portrait  of  Valerie  to  continue. 
He  continued  it  mentally,  at  intervals ;  but  for  several 
days,  now,  he  had  not  laid  a  brush  to  it. 

"  It's  funny,"  he  said  to  Querida,  going  out  on  the 
train  to  his  sister's  country  home  one  delicious  morn 
ing — "  it's  confoundedly  odd  that  I  should  turn  lazy 
in  my  old  age.  Do  you  think  I'm  worked  out  ?  "  He 
gulped  down  a  sudden  throb  of  fear  smilingly. 

"  Lie  fallow,"  said  Querida,  gently.  "  No  soil  is 
deep  enough  to  yield  without  rest." 

"  Yours  does." 

"  Oh,  for  me,"  said  Querida,  showing  his  snowy 
teeth,  "  I  often  sicken  of  my  fat  sunlight,  frying 
everything  to  an  iridescent  omelette."  He  shrugged, 
laughed :  "  I  turn  lazy  for  months  every  year.  Try  it, 
my  friend.  Don't  you  even  keep  mi-car  erne?  " 

101 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Neville  stared  out  of  the  window  at  the  station 
platform  p^st  which  they  were  gliding,  and  rose 
with  Querida  as  the  train  stopped.  His  sister's  tour 
ing  car  was  waiting;  into  it  stepped  Querida,  and  he 
followed ;  and  away  they  sped  over  the  beautiful  roll 
ing  country,  where  handsome  cattle  tried  to  behave 
like  genuine  Troyon's,  and  silvery  sheep  attempted  to 
imitate  Mauve,  and  even  the  trees,  separately  or  in 
groups,  did  their  best  to  look  like  sections  of  Rousseau, 
Diaz,  and  even  Corot — but  succeeded  only  in  resembling 
questionable  imitations. 

"  There's  to  be  quite  a  week-end  party?  "  inquired 
Querida. 

"  I  don't  know.  My  sister  telephoned  me  to  fill  in. 
I  fancy  the  party  is  for  you." 

"  For  me!  "  exclaimed  Querida  with  delightful  en 
thusiasm.  "  That  is  most  charming  of  Mrs.  Collis." 

"  They'll  all  think  it  charming  of  you.  Lord,  what 
a  rage  you've  become  and  what  a  furor  you've  aroused ! 
.  .  .  And  you  deserve  it,"  added  Neville,  coolly. 

Querida  looked  at  him,  calm  intelligence  in  his  dark 
gaze;  and  understood  the  honesty  of  the  comment. 

"  That,"  he  said,  "  if  you  permit  the  vigour  of 
expression,  is  damn  nice  of  you,  Neville.  But  you  can 
afford  to  be  generous  to  other  painters." 

"Can  I?"  Neville  turned  and  gazed  at  Querida, 
gray  eyes  clear  in  their  searching  inquiry.  Then  he 
laughed  a  little  and  looked  out  over  the  sunny  land 
scape. 

Querida's  olive  cheeks  had  reddened  a  trifle. 

Neville  said :  "  What  is  the  trouble  with  my  work, 
anyway?  Is  it  what  some  of  you  fellows  say?  " 

Querida  did  not  pretend  to  misunderstand: 
102 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  You're  really  a  great  painter,  Neville.  And  you 
know  it.  Must  you  have  everything?  " 

"  Well— I'm  going  after  it." 

"  Surely — surely.  I,  also.  God  knows  my  work 
lacks  many,  many  things -" 

"  But  it  doesn't  lack  that  one  essential  which  mine 
lacks.  What  is  it?" 

Querida  laughed :  "  I  can't  explain.  For  me — your 
Byzantine  canvas — there  is  in  it  something  not  in 
timate " 

"Austere?" 

"  Yes — even  in  those  divine  and  lovely  throngs0 
There  is,  perhaps,  an  aloofness — even  a  self-denial — " 
He  laughed  again :  "  I  deny  myself  nothing — on  canvas 
— even  I  have  the  audacity  to  try  to  draw  as  you  do !  " 

Neville  sat  thinking,  watching  the  landscape  speed 
away  on  either  side  in  a  running  riot  of  green. 

"  Self-denial — too  much  of  it — separates  you  from 
your  kind,"  said  Querida.  "  The  solitary  fasters  are 
never  personally  pleasant ;  hermits  are  the  world's  pub 
lic  admiration  and  private  abomination.  Oh,  the  good 
world  dearly  loves  to  rub  elbows  with  a  talented  sinner 
and  patronise  him  and  sentimentalise  over  him — one 
whose  miracles  don't  hurt  their  eyes  enough  to  blind 
them  to  the  pleasant  discovery  that  his  halo  is  tarnished 
in  spots  and  needs  polishing,  and  that  there's  a  patch 
on  the  seat  of  his  carefully  creased  toga." 

Neville  laughed.  Presently  he  said :  "  Until  recently 
I've  cherished  theories.  One  of  'em  was  to  subordinate 
everything  in  life  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  single  pleasure 
— the  pleasure  of  work.  ...  I  guess  experience  is  put 
ting  that  theory  on  the  blink." 

"  Surely.  You  might  as  well  make  an  entire  meal 
103 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


of  one  favourite  dish.  For  a  day  you  could  stand  it, 
even  like  it,  perhaps.  After  that — "  he  shrugged. 

"  But — I'd  rather  spend  my  time  painting — if  I 
could  stand  the  diet." 

"Would  you?  I  don't  know  what  I'd  rather  do. 
I  like  almost  everything.  It  makes  me  paint  better  to 
talk  to  a  pretty  woman,  for  example.  To  kiss  her 
inspires  a  masterpiece." 

"Does  it?"   said  Neville,  thoughtfully. 

"  Of  course.  A  week  or  two  of  motoring — riding, 
dancing,  white  flannel  idleness — all  these  I  adore.  And," 
tapping  his  carefully  pinned  lilac  tie — "  inside  of  me  I 
know  that  every  pleasant  experience,  every  pleasure  I 
offer  myself,  is  going  to  make  me  a  better  painter !  " 

"  Experience,"  repeated  the  other. 

"  By  all  means  and  every  means — experience  in 
pleasure,  in  idleness,  in  love,  in  sorrow — but  experi 
ence! — always  experience,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  and 
at  any  cost.  That  is  the  main  idea,  Neville — my  main 
idea — like  the  luscious  agglomeration  of  juicy  green 
things  which  that  cow  is  eating;  they  all  go  to  make 
good  milk.  Bah! — that's  a  stupid  simile,"  he  added, 
reddening. 

Neville  laughed.  Presently  he  pointed  across  the 
meadows. 

"  Is  that  your  sister's  place?  "  asked  Querida  with 
enthusiasm,  interested  and  disappointed.  "  What  a 
charming  house !  " 

"  That  is  Ashuelyn,  my  sister's  house.  Beyond  is 
El  Nauar,  Cardemon's  place.  .  .  .  Here  we  are." 

The  small  touring  car  stopped;  the  young  men  de 
scended  to  a  grassy  terrace  where  a  few  people  in 
white  flannels  had  gathered  after  breakfast.  A  slender 

104 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


woman,  small  of  bone  and  built  like  an  undeveloped 
girl,  came  forward,  the  sun  shining  on  her  thick  chest 
nut  hair. 

"  Hello,  Lily,"  said  Neville. 

"  Hello,  Louis.  Thank  you  for  coming,  Mr.  Que- 
rida — it  is  exceedingly  nice  of  you  to  come — "  She 
gave  him  her  firm,  cool  hand,  smiled  on  him  with  un 
feigned  approval,  turned  and  presented  him  to  the  oth 
ers — Miss  Aulne,  Miss  Swift,  Miss  Annan,  a  Mr. 
Cameron,  and,  a  moment  later,  to  her  husband,  Gordon 
Collis,  a  good-looking,  deeply  sun-burned  young  man 
whose  only  passion,  except  his  wife  and  baby,  was 
Ashuelyn,  the  home  of  his  father. 

But  it  was  a  quiet  passion  which  bored  nobody,  not 
even  his  wife. 

When  conversation  became  general,  with  Querida  as 
the  centre  around  which  it  eddied,  Neville,  who  had 
seated  himself  on  the  gray  stone  parapet  near  his  sister5 
said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Well,  how  goes  it,  Lily?  " 

"  All  right,"  she  replied  with  boyish  directness,  but 
in  the  same  low  tone.  "  Mother  and  father  have  spent 
a  week  with  us.  You  saw  them  in  town?  " 

"  Of  course.  I'll  run  up  to  Spindrift  House  to  see 
them  as  often  as  I  can  this  summer.  .  .  .  How's  the 
kid?" 

"  Fine.     Do  you  want  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'd  like  to." 

His  sister  caught  his  hand,  jumped  up,  and  led 
him  into  the  house  to  the  nursery  where  a  normal  and 
in  nowise  extraordinary  specimen  of  infancy  reposed  in 
a  cradle,  pink  with  slumber,  one  thumb  inserted  in 
its  mouth. 

105 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Isn't  he  a  wonder,"  murmured  Neville,  venturing 
to  release  the  thumb. 

The  young  mother  bent  over,  examining  her  off 
spring  in  all  the  eloquent  silence  of  pride  unutterable. 
After  a  little  while  she  said :  "  I've  got  to  feed  him. 
Go  back  to  the  others,  Louis,  and  say  I'll  be  down 
after  a  while." 

He  sauntered  back  through  the  comfortable  but 
modest  house,  glancing  absently  about  him  on  his  way 
to  the  terrace,  nodding  to  familiar  faces  among  the 
servants,  stopping  to  inspect  a  sketch  of  his  own  which 
he  had  done  long  ago  and  which  his  sister  loved  and 
he  hated. 

"  Rotten,"  he  murmured — "  it  has  an  innocence 
about  it  that  is  actually  more  offensive  than  stupidity." 

On  the  terrace  Stephanie  Swift  came  over  to  him: 

"Do  you  want  a  single  at  tennis,  Louis?  The 
others  are  hot  for  Bridge — except  Gordon  Collis — and 
he  is  going  to  dicker  with  a  farmer  over  some  land  he 
wants  to  buy." 

Neville  looked  at  the  others: 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  people  are  going 
to  sit  here  all  hunched  up  around  a  table  on  a  glorious 
day  like  this?" 

"  We  are,"  said  Alexander  Cameron,  calmly  break 
ing  the  seal  of  two  fresh  packs.  "  You  artists  have 
nothing  to  do  for  a  living  except  to  paint  pretty 
models,  and  when  the  week  end  comes  you're  in  fine 
shape  to  caper  and  cut  up  didoes.  But  we  business  men 
are  too  tired  to  go  galumphing  over  the  greensward 
when  Saturday  arrives.  It's  a  wicker  chair  and  a 
*  high  one,'  and  peaceful  and  improving  cards  for 
ours." 

106 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Alice  Annan  laughed  and  glanced  at  Querida. 
Cameron's  idea  was  her  idea  of  what  her  brother 
Harry  was  doing  for  a  living ;  but  she  wasn't  sure 
that  Querida  would  think  it  either  flattering  or  hu 
morous. 

But  Jose  Querida  laughed,  too,  saying:  "  Quite 
right,  Mr.  Cameron.  It's  only  bluff  with  us ;  we  never 
work.  Life  is  one  continual  comic  opera." 

"  It's  a  cinch,"  murmured  Cameron.  "  Stocks  and 
bonds  are  exciting,  but  your  business  puts  it  all  over 
us.  Nobody  would  have  to  drive  me  to  business 
every  morning  if  there  was  a  pretty  model  in  a  cosey 
studio  awaiting  me." 

"  Sandy,  you're  rather  horrid,"  said  Miss  Aulne, 
watching  him  sort  out  the  jokers  from  the  new  packs 
and,  with  a  skilful  flip,  send  them  scaling  out,  across 
the  grass,  for  somebody  to  pick  up. 

Cameron  said:  "How  about  this  Trilby  business, 
anyway,  Miss  Annan?  You  have  a  brother  in  it.  Is 
the  world  of  art  full  of  pretty  models  clad  in  ballet 
skirts — when  they  wear  anything?  Is  it  all  one  mad, 
joyous  melange  of  high-brow  conversation  discreetly 
peppered  with  low-brow  revelry?  Yes?  No?  Inform 
an  art  lover,  please — as  they  say  in  the  Times  Saturday 
Review" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Annan,  laughing. 
"  Harry  never  has  anybody  interesting  in  the  studio 
when  he  lets  me  take  tea  there." 

Rose  Aulne  said :  "  I  saw  some  photographs  of  a  very 
beautiful  girl  in  Sam  Ogilvy's  studio — a  model.  What 
is  her  name,  Alice  ? — the  one  Sam  and  Harry  are  always 
raving  over  ?  " 

"  They  call  her  Valerie,  I  believe." 
107 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"Yes,  that's  the  one — Valerie  West,  isn't  it?  Is 
it,  Louis?  You  know  her,  of  course." 

Neville  nodded  coolly. 

"  Introduce  me,"  murmured  Cameron,  spreading  a 
pack  for  cutting.  "  Perhaps  she'd  like  to  see  the  Stock 
Exchange  when  I'm  at  my  best." 

"  Is  she  such  a  beauty?  Do  you  know  her,  too, 
Mr.  Querida  ?  "  asked  Rose  Aulne. 

Querida  laughed :  "  I  do.  Miss  West  is  a  most  en 
gaging,  most  amiable  and  cultivated  girl,  and  truly 
very  beautiful." 

"Oh!  They  are  sometimes  educated?"  asked  Ste 
phanie,  surprised. 

"  Sometimes  they  are  even  equipped  to  enter  al 
most  any  drawing-room  in  New  York.  It  doesn't 
always  require  the  very  highest  equipment  to  do  that," 
he  added,  laughing. 

"  That  sounds  like  romantic  fiction,"  observed  Alice 
Annan.  "  You  are  a  poet,  Mr.  Querida." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  often  a  girl  like  Valerie  West  crosses 
our  path.  I  admit  that.  Now  and  then  such  a  comet 
passes  across  our  sky — or  is  reported.  I  never  before 
saw  any  except  this  one." 

"  If  she's  as  much  of  a  winner  as  all  that,"  began 
Cameron  with  decision,  "  I  want  to  meet  her  immedi- 
ately- 

"  Mere  brokers  are  out  of  it,"  said  Alice.  .  .  . 
"  Cut,  please." 

Rose  Aulne  said :  "  If  you  painters  only  knew  it, 
your  stupid  studio  teas  would  be  far  more  interesting 
if  you'd  have  a  girl  like  this  Valerie  West  to  pour 
for  you  .  .  .  and  for  us  to  see." 

"  Yes,"  added  Alice ;  "  but  they're  a  vain  lot.  They 
108 


"'If  she's  as  much   of  a  winner  as  all  that,'   began  Cameron  with 
decision,  'I  want  to  meet  her  immediately ' 

think  we  are  unsophisticated  enough  to  want  to  go  to 
their  old  studios  and  be  perfectly  satisfied  to  look  at 
their  precious  pictures,  and  listen  to  their  art  patter. 
I've  told  Harry  that  what  we  want  is  to  see  something 
of  the  real  studio  life;  and  he  tries  to  convince  me 
that  it's  about  as  exciting  as  a  lawyer's  life  when  he 
dictates  to  his  stenographer." 

"  Is  it?  "  asked  Stephanie  of  Neville. 

"  Just  about  as  exciting.  Some  few  business  men 
may  smirk  at  their  stenographers ;  some  few  painters 
may  behave  in  the  same  way  to  their  models.  I  fancy 
it's  the  exception  to  the  rule  in  any  kind  of  business — 
isn't  it,  Sandy?" 

109 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Certainly,"  said  Cameron,  hastily.  "  I  never 
winked  at  my  stenographer — never!  never!  Will  you 
deal,  Mr.  Querida?  "  he  asked,  courteously. 

"  I  should  think  a  girl  like  that  would  be  interesting 
to  know,"  said  Lily  Collis,  who  had  come  up  behind  her 
brother  and  Stephanie  Swift  and  stood,  a  hand  on  each 
of  their  shoulders,  listening  and  looking  on  at  the  card 
game. 

"  That  is  what  I  wanted  to  say,  too,"  nodded  Ste 
phanie.  "  I'd  like  to  meet  a  really  nice  girl  who  is 
courageous  enough  and  romantic  enough  to  pose  for 
artists " 

'*  You  mean  poor  enough,  don't  you  ?  "  said  Neville. 
"  They  don't  do  it  because  it's  romantic." 

"  It  must  be  romantic  work." 

"  It  isn't,  I  assure  you.  It's  drudgery — and  some 
times  torture." 

Stephanie  laughed :  "  I  believe  it's  easy  work  and  a 
gay  existence  full  of  romance.  Don't  undeceive  me, 
Louis.  And  I  think  you're  selfish  not  to  let  us  meet 
your  beautiful  Valerie  at  tea." 

"  Why  not?  "  added  his  sister.  "  I'd  like  to  see  her 
myself." 

"  Oh,  Lily,  you  know  perfectly  well  that  oil  and 
water  don't  mix,"  he  said  with  a  weary  shrug. 

"  I  suppose  we're  the  oil,"  remarked  Rose  Aulne — 
66  horrid,  smooth,  insinuating  stuff.  And  his  beauti 
ful  Valerie  is  the  clear,  crystalline,  uncontaminated 
fountain  of  inspiration." 

Lily  Collis  dropped  her  hands  from  Stephanie's  and 
her  brother's  shoulders : 

"  Do  ask  us  to  tea  to  meet  her,  Louis,"  she  coaxed. 

"  We've  never  seen  a  model " 

110 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Do  you  want  me  to  exhibit  a  sensitive  girl  as  a 
museum  freak?"  he  asked,  impatiently. 

"  Don't  you  suppose  we  know  how  to  behave  toward 
her?  Really,  Louis,  you " 

"  Probably  you  know  how  to  behave.  And  I  can 
assure  you  that  she  knows  perfectly  well  how  to  behave 
toward  anybody.  But  that  isn't  the  question.  You 
want  to  see  her  out  of  curiosity.  You  wouldn't  make 
a  friend  of  her — or  even  an  acquaintance.  And  I  tell 
you,  frankly,  I  don't  think  it's  square  to  her  and  I 
won't  do  it.  Women  are  nuisances  in  studios,  anyway." 

"  What  a  charming  way  your  brother  has  of  ex 
plaining  things,"  laughed  Stephanie,  passing  her  arm 
through  Lily's :  "  Shall  we  reveal  to  him  that  he  was 
seen  with  his  Valerie  at  the  St.  Regis  a  week  ago  ?  " 

"Why  not?"  he  said,  coolly,  but  inwardly  ex 
asperated.  "  She's  as  ornamental  as  anybody  who  dines 
there." 

"  I  don't  do  that  with  my  stenographers !  "  called 
out  Cameron  gleefully,  cleaning  up  three  odd  in  spades. 
"  Oh,  don't  talk  to  me,  Louis !  You're  a  gay  bunch 
all  right! — you're  qualified,  every  one  of  you,  artists 
and  models,  to  join  the  merry,  merry ! " 

Stephanie  dropped  Lily's  arm  with  a  light  laugh, 
swung  her  tennis  bat,  tossed  a  ball  into  the  sunshine,  and 
knocked  it  over  toward  the  tennis  court. 

"  I'll  take  you  on  if  you  like,  Louis !  "  she  called  back 
over  her  shoulder,  then  continued  her  swift,  graceful 
pace,  white  serge  skirts  swinging  above  her  ankles, 
bright  hair  wind-blown — a  lithe,  full,  wholesome  figure, 
very  comforting  to  look  at. 

"  Come  upstairs ;  I'll  show  you  where  Gordon's  shoes 
are,"  said  his  sister. 

Ill 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Gordon's  white  shoes  fitted  him,  also  his  white  trou 
sers.  When  he  was  dressed  he  came  out  of  the  room  and 
joined  his  sister,  who  was  seated  on  the  stairs,  balancing 
his  racquet  across  her  knees. 

"  Louis,"  she  said,  "  how  about  the  good  taste  of 
taking  that  model  of  yours  to  the  St.  Regis  ?  " 

"  It  was  perfectly  good  taste,"  he  said,  carelessly. 

"  Stephanie  took  it  like  an  angel,"  mused  his  sister. 

"Why  shouldn't  she?  If  there  was  anything  queer 
about  it,  you  don't  suppose  I'd  select  the  St.  Regis, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  Nobody  supposed  there  was  anything  queer." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  demanded,  impatiently,  "  what's 
the  row?" 

"  There  is  no  row.  Stephanie  doesn't  make  what 
you  call  rows.  Neither  does  anybody  in  your  immediate 
family.  I  was  merely  questioning  the  wisdom  of  your 
public  appearance — under  the  circumstances." 

"  What  circumstances  ?  " 

His  sister  looked  at  him  calmly : 

"  The  circumstances  of  your  understanding  with 
Stephanie.  .  .  .  An  understanding  of  years,  which,  in 
her  mind  at  least,  amounts  to  a  tacit  engagement." 

"  I'm  glad  you  said  that,"  he  began,  after  a  mo 
ment's  steady  thinking.  "  If  that  is  the  way  that 
Stephanie  and  you  still  regard  a  college  affair " 

"A— what!" 

"  A  boy-and-girl  preference  which  became  an  under 
graduate  romance — and  has  never  amounted  to  anything 
more " 

"  Louis ! " 

"What?" 

"  Don't  you  care  for  her?  " 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Certainly ;  as  much  as  I  ever  did — as  much  as  she 
really  and  actually  cares  for  me,"  he  answered,  defiantly. 
"  You  know  perfectly  well  what  such  affairs  ever 
amount  to — in  the  sentimental-ever-after  line.  Infant 
sweethearts  almost  never  marry.  She  has  no  more  idea 
of  it  than  have  I.  We  are  fond  of  each  other ;  neither 
of  us  has  happened,  so  far,  to  encounter  the  real  thing. 
But  as  soon  as  the  right  man  comes  along  Stephanie 
will  spread  her  wings  and  take  flight " 

"You  don't  know  her!  Well— of  all  faithless 
wretches — your  inconstancy  makes  me  positively  ill !  " 

"  Inconstancy !  I'm  not  inconstant.  I  never  saw  a 
girl  I  liked  better  than  Stephanie.  I'm  not  likely  to. 
But  that  doesn't  mean  that  I  want  to  marry  her " 

"  For  shame !  " 

"  Nonsense !  Why  do  you  talk  about  inconstancy  ? 
It's  a  ridiculous  word.  What  is  constancy  in  love? 
Either  an  accident  or  a  fortunate  state  of  mind.  To 
promise  constancy  in  love  is  promising  to  continue  in 
a  state  of  mind  over  which  your  will  has  no  control. 
It's  never  an  honest  promise;  it  can  be  only  an  honest 
hope.  Love  comes  and  goes  and  no  man  can  stay  it, 
and  no  man  is  its  prophet.  Coming  unasked,  some 
times  undesired,  often  unwelcome,  it  goes  unbidden, 
without  reason,  without  logic,  as  inexorably  as  it  came, 
governed  by  laws  that  no  man  has  ever  yet  under 
stood " 

"  Louis  !  "  exclaimed  his  sister,  bewildered ;  "  what  in 
the  world  are  you  lecturing  about?  Why,  to  hear  you 
expound  the  anatomy  of  love " 

He  began  to  laugh,  caught  her  hands,  and  kissed 
her: 

"  Little  goose,  that  was  all  impromptu  and  horribly 
113 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


trite  and  commonplace.  Only  it  was  new  to  me  because 
I  never  before  took  the  trouble  to  consider  it.  But  it's 
true,  even  if  it  is  trite.  People  love  or  they  don't  love, 
and  a  regard  for  ethics  controls  only  what  they  do 
about  it." 

"  That's  another  Tupperesque  truism,  isn't  it, 
dear?" 

"  Sure  thing.  Who  am  I  to  mock  at  the  Proverbial 
One  when  I've  never  yet  evolved  anything  better?  .  .  . 
Listen ;  you  don't  want  me  to  marry  Stephanie,  do 
you?" 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  No,  you  don't.     You  think  you  do " 

"  I  do,  I  do,  Louis !  She's  the  sweetest,  finest,  most 
generous,  most  suitable " 

"Sure,"  he  said,  hastily,  " -she's  all  that  except 
'  suitable  ' — and  she  isn't  that,  and  I'm  not,  either.  For 
the  love  of  Mike,  Lily,  let  me  go  on  admiring  her,  even 
loving  her  in  a  perfectly  harmless " 

"  It  isn't  harmless  to  caress  a  girl " 

"  Why — you  can't  call  it  caressing " 

"What  do  you  call  it?  " 

"  Nothing.  We've  always  been  on  an  intimate  foot 
ing.  She's  perfectly  unembarrassed  about — whatever 
impulsive — er — fugitive  impulses " 

"You  Jo  kiss  her!" 

"  Seldom — very  seldom.  At  moments  the  conditions 
happen  accidentally  to — suggest — some  slight  demon 
stration — of  a  very  warm  friendship 

"  You  positively  sicken  me !  Do  you  think  a  nice 
girl  is  going  to  let  a  man  paw  her  if  she  doesn't  con 
sider  him  pledged  to  her?  " 

"  I  don't  think  anything  about  it.  Nice  girls  have 
114 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


done  madder  things  than  their  eulogists  admit.  As  a 
plain  matter  of  fact  you  can't  tell  what  anybody  nice 
is  going  to  do  under  theoretical  circumstances.  And 
the  nicer  they  are  the  bigger  the  gamble — particularly 
if  they're  endowed  with  brains " 

"  That's  cynicism.  You  seem  to  be  developing  sev 
eral  streaks " 

"  Polite  blinking  of  facts  never  changes  them.  Con 
forming  to  conventional  and  accepted  theories  never  yet 
appealed  to  intelligence.  I'm  not  going  to  be  dishonest 
with  myself;  that's  one  of  the  streaks  I've  developed. 
You  ask  me  if  I  love  Stephanie  enough  to  marry  her, 
and  I  say  I  don't.  What's  the  good  of  blinking  it? 
I  don't  love  anybody  enough  to  marry  'em;  but  I 
like  a  number  of  girls  well  enough  to  spoon  with 
them." 

"  That  is  disgusting !  " 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  he  said,  with  smiling  weariness ;  "  it's 
the  unvarnished  truth  about  the  average  man.  Why 
wink  at  it?  The  average  man  can  like  a  lot  of  girls 
enough  to  spoon  and  sentimentalise  with  them.  It's  the 
pure  accident  of  circumstance  and  environment  that 
chooses  for  him  the  one  he  marries.  There  are  myriads 
of  others  in  the  world  with  whom,  under  proper  circum 
stances  and  environment,  he'd  have  been  just  as  happy 
— often  happier.  Choice  is  a  mystery,  constancy  a 
gamble,  discontent  the  one  best  bet.  It  isn't  pleasant; 
it  isn't  nice  fiction  and  delightful  romance ;  it  isn't  poetry 
or  precept  as  it  is  popularly  inculcated ;  it's  the  brutal 
truth  about  the  average  man.  .  .  .  And  I'm  going  to 
find  Stephanie.  Have  you  any  objection?  " 

"  Louis — I'm  terribly  disappointed  in  you " 

"  I'm  disappointed,  too.  Until  you  spoke  to  me  so 
115 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


plainly  a  few  minutes  ago  I  never  clearly  understood 
that  I  couldn't  marry  Stephanie.  When  I  thought  of 
it  at  all  it  seemed  a  vague  and  shadowy  something,  too 


"'Come  on,  Alice,  if  you're  going  to  scrub  before  luncheon.'" 

far  away  to  be  really  impending — threatening — like 
death " 

"  Oh !  "  cried  his  sister  in  revolt.  "  I  shall  make  it 
my  business  to  see  that  Stephanie  understands  you  thor 
oughly  before  this  goes  any  farther " 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  you  would,"  he  said,  so  heartily 
116 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


that    his     sister,    exasperated,    turned    her    back    and 
marched  away  to  the  nursery. 

When  he  went  out  to  the  tennis  court  he  found 
Stephanie  idly  batting  the  balls  across  the  net  with  Cam 
eron,  who,  being  dummy,  had  strolled  down  to  gibe  at 
her — a  pastime  both  enjoyed: 

"  Here  comes  your  Alonzo,  fair  lady — lightly  skip 
ping  o'er  the  green — yes,  yes — wearing  the  panties  of 
his  brother-in-law !  "  He  fell  into  an  admiring  attitude 
and  contemplated  Neville  with  a  simper,  his  ruddy,, 
prematurely  bald  head  cocked  on  one  side: 

"Oh,  girls!  Ain't  he  just  grand!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Honest,  Stephanie,  your  young  man  has  me  in  the 
ditch  with  two  blow-outs  and  the  gas  afire !  " 

"  Get  out  of  this  court,"  said  Neville,  hurling  a  ball 
at  him. 

"Isn't  he  the  jealous  old  thing!"  cried  Cameron, 
flouncing  away  with  an  affectation  of  feminine  indig 
nation.  And  presently  the  tennis  balls  began  to  fly, 
and  the  little  jets  of  white  dust  floated  away  on  the 
June  breeze. 

They  were  very  evenly  matched;  they  always  had 
been,  never  asking  odds  or  offering  handicaps  in  any 
thing.  It  had  always  been  so;  at  the  traps  she  could 
break  as  many  clay  birds  as  he  could ;  she  rode  as  well, 
drove  as  well;  their  averages  usually  balanced.  From 
the  beginning — even  as  children — it  had  been  always 
give  and  take  and  no  favour. 

And  so  it  was  now ;  sets  were  even ;  it  was  a  matter 
of  service. 

Luncheon    interrupted   a    drawn    game;    Stephanie, 
flushed,  smiling,  came  around  to  his  side  of  the  net  to 
join  him  on  the  way  to  the  house: 
5  117 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  How  do  you  keep  up  your  game,  Louis?  Or  do  I 
never  improve?  It's  curious,  isn't  it,  that  we  are  al 
ways  deadlocked." 

Bare-armed,  bright  hair  in  charming  disorder,  she 
swung  along  beside  him  with  that  quick,  buoyant  step 
so  characteristic  of  a  spirit  ever  undaunted,  saluting 
the  others  on  the  terrace  with  high-lifted  racquet. 

"  Nobody  won,"  she  said.  "  Come  on,  Alice,  if 
you're  going  to  scrub  before  luncheon.  Thank  you, 
Louis ;  I've  had  a  splendid  game —  She  stretched  out 
a  frank  hand  to  him,  going,  and  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
just  brushed  his. 

His  sister  gave  him  a  tragic  look,  which  he  ignored, 
and  a  little  later  luncheon  was  on  and  Cameron  gar 
rulous,  and  Querida  his  own  gentle,  expressive,  fascinat 
ing  self,  devotedly  receptive  to  any  woman  who  was  in 
clined  to  talk  to  him  or  to  listen. 

That  evening  Neville  said  to  his  sister :  "  There's  a 
train  at  midnight ;  I  don't  think  I'll  stay  over " 

"Why?" 

"  I  want  to  be  in  town  early." 

"Why?" 

"  The  early  light  is  the  best." 

"  I  thought  you'd  stopped  painting  for  a  while." 

"  I  have,  practically.  There's  one  thing  I  keep  on 
with,  in  a  desultory  sort  of  way " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  of  importance —  "  he  hesitated — "  that 
is,  it  may  be  important.  I  can't  be  sure,  yet." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  it  is?  " 

"  Why,  yes.     It's  a  portrait — a  study — — " 

"Of  whom,  dear?" 

118 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Oh,  of  nobody  you  know 

"  Is  it  a  portrait  of  Valerie  West?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  carelessly. 

There  was  a  silence ;  in  the  starlight  his  shadowy 
face  was  not  clearly  visible  to  his  sister. 

"  Are  you  leaving  just  to  continue  that  portrait?  " 

"  Yes.     I'm  interested  in  it." 

"  Don't  go,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  he  returned  shortly. 

"  Dear,  I  am  not  silly,  but  I  suspect  you  are  begin 
ning  to  be.  And  over  a  model !  " 

"  Lily,  you  little  idiot,"  he  laughed,  exasperated ;, 
"  what  in  the  world  is  worrying  you  ?  " 

"  Your  taking  that  girl  to  the  St.  Regis.  It  isn't 
like  you." 

"  Good  Lord !  How  many  girls  do  you  suppose  I've- 
taken  to  various  places  ?  " 

"  Not  many,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him.  "  Your 
reputation  for  gallantries  is  not  alarming." 

He  reddened.  "  You're  perfectly  right.  That  sort 
of  thing  never  appealed  to  me." 

"  Then  why  does  it  appeal  to  you  now  ?  " 

"  It  doesn't.  Can't  you  understand  that  this  girl  is 
entirely  different " 

"  Yes,  I  understand.    And  that  is  what  worries  me." 

"  It  needn't.  It's  precisely  like  taking  any  girl  you 
know  and  like " 

"  Then  let  me  know  her — if  you  mean  to  decorate 
public  places  with  her." 

They  looked  at  one  another  steadily. 

"  Louis,"  she  said,  "  this  pretty  Valerie  is  not  your 
sister's  sort,  or  you  wouldn't  hesitate." 

"  I — hesitate — yes,  certainly  I  do.  It's  absurd  ont 
119 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


the  face  of  it.  She's  too  fine  a  nature  to  be  patronised 
— too  inexperienced  in  the  things  of  your  world — too 
ignorant  of  petty  conventions  and  formalities — too  free 
and  fearless  and  confident  and  independent  to  appeal  to 
the  world  you  live  in." 

"  Isn't  that  a  rather  scornful  indictment  against  my 
world,  dear?  " 

"  No.  Your  world  is  all  right  in  its  way.  You  and 
I  were  brought  up  in  it.  I  got  out  of  it.  There  are 
other  worlds.  The  one  I  now  inhabit  is  more  interesting 
to  me.  It's  purely  a  matter  of  personal  taste,  dear. 
Valerie  West  inhabits  a  world  that  suits  her." 

"  Has  she  had  any  choice  in  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I — yes.  She's  had  the  sense  and  the  courage  to 
keep  out  of  the  various  unsafe  planets  where  electric 
light  furnishes  the  principal  illumination." 

"  But  has  she  had  a  chance  for  choosing  a  better 
planet  than  the  one  you  say  she  prefers?  Your  choice 
was  free.  Was  hers  ?  " 

"  Look  here,  Lily !  Why  on  earth  are  you  so  sig 
nificant  about  a  girl  you  never  saw — scarcely  ever 
heard  of " 

"  Dear,  I  have  not  told  you  everything.  I  have 
heard  of  her — of  her  charm,  her  beauty,  her  apparent 
innocence — yes,  her  audacity,  her  popularity  with  men. 
.  .  .  Such  things  are  not  unobserved  and  unreported 
between  your  new  planet  and  mine.  Harry  Annan  is 
frankly  crazy  about  her,  and  his  sister  Alice  is  scared 
to  death.  Mr.  Ogilvy,  Mr.  Burleson,  Clive  Gail,  dozens 
of  men  I  know  are  quite  mad  about  her.  ...  If  it  was 
she  whom  you  used  as  model  for  the  figures  in  the 
Byzantine  decorations,  she  is  divine — the  loveliest  crea 
ture  to  look  at !  And  I  don't  care,  Louis ;  I  don't  care 

120 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


a  straw  one  way  or  the  other  except  that  I  know  you 
have  never  bothered  with  the  more  or  less  innocently 
irregular  gaieties  which  attract  many  men  of  your 
age  and  temperament.  And  so — when  I  hear  that  you 
are  frequently  seen " 

"Frequently?" 

"  Is  that  St.  Regis  affair  the  only  one?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  But,  as  for  my  being  with  her 
frequently " 

"Well?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then,  looking  up  with 
a  laugh: 

"  I  like  her  immensely.  Until  this  moment  I  didn't 
realise  how  much  I  do  like  her — how  pleasant  it  is  to  be 
with  a  girl  who  is  absolutely  fearless,  clever,  witty,  in 
telligent,  and  unspoiled." 

"  Are  there  no  girls  in  your  own  set  who  conform  to- 
this  standard?  " 

"  Plenty.  But  their  very  environment  and  conven- 
tional  traditions  kill  them — make  them  a  nuisance." 

"  Louis !  " 

"  That's  more  plain  truth,  which  no  woman  likes. 
Will  you  tell  me  what  girl  in'  your  world,  who  ap 
proaches  the  qualitative  standard  set  by  Valerie  West, 
would  go  about  by  day  or  evening  with  any  man  except 
her  brother?  Valerie  does.  What  girl  would  be  fear 
less  enough  to  ignore  the  cast-iron  fetters  of  her  caste? 
Valerie  West  is  a  law  unto  herself — a  law  as  sweet  and 
good  and  excellent  and  as  inflexible  as  any  law  made  by 
men  to  restrain  women's  liberty,  arouse  them  to  un 
happy  self-consciousness  and  infect  them  with  suspicion. 
Every  one  of  you  are  the  terrified  slaves  of  custom,  and 
you  know  it.  Most  men  like  it.  I  don't.  I'm  no  tea 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Ask  me  an  easier  one,  Louis.  And — I  didn't  say 
you  needed  it  at  all,  did  I  ?  " 

He  sat  beside  her,  silent,  head  lifted,  examining  the 
stars. 

"  I'm  going  back  on  the  midnight,"  he  remarked, 
casually. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  her  winning 
frankness. 

"  I'm — there's  something  I  have  to  attend  to  in 
town " 

"Work?" 

"  It  has  to  do  with  my  work — indirectly " 

She  glanced  sideways  at  him,  and  remained  for  a 
moment  curiously  observant. 

"  How  is  the  work  going,  anyway  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  hesitated.  "  I've  apparently  come  up  slap 
against  a  blank  wall.  It  isn't  easy  to  explain  how  I 
feel — but  I've  no  confidence  in  myself " 

"  You!    No  confidence?     How  absurd!" 

"  It's  true,"  he  said  a  little  sullenly. 

"  You  are  having  a  spasm  of  progressive  develop 
ment,"  she  said,  calmly.  "  You  take  it  as  a  child  takes 
teething — with  a  squirm  and  a  mental  howl  instead  of 
a  physical  yell." 

He  laughed.  "  I  suppose  it's  something  of  that 
«ort.  But  there's  more — a  self-distrust  amounting  to 
self-disgust  at  moments.  .  .  .  Stephanie,  I  want  to  do 
something  good ' 

"  You  have — dozens  of  times." 

"  People  say  so.  The  world  forgets  what  is  really 
good —  "  he  made  a  nervous  gesture — "  always  before  us 
poor  twentieth-century  men  looms  the  goal  guarded  by 
the  vast,  austere,  menacing  phantoms  of  the  Masters." 


EI  know  it  is  you.     Is  it?"* 


she 


"  Nobody  ever  won  a  race  looking  behind  him, 
said,  gaily ;  "  let  'em  menace  and  loom !  " 

He  laughed  in  a  half-hearted  fashion,  then  his  head 
fell  again  slowly,  and  he  sat  there  brooding,  silent. 

"  Louis,  why  are  you  always  dissatisfied?  " 

"  I  always  will  be,  I  suppose."     His  discontented 
gaze  grew  more  vague. 

125 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Ask  me  an  easier  one,  Louis.  And — I  didn't  say 
you  needed  it  at  all,  did  I  ?  " 

He  sat  beside  her,  silent,  head  lifted,  examining  the 
stars. 

"  I'm  going  back  on  the  midnight,"  he  remarked, 
casually. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  her  winning 
frankness. 

"  I'm — there's  something  I  have  to  attend  to  in 
town " 

"Work?" 

"  It  has  to  do  with  my  work — indirectly " 

She  glanced  sideways  at  him,  and  remained  for  a 
moment  curiously  observant. 

"  How  is  the  work  going,  anyway  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  hesitated.  "  I've  apparently  come  up  slap 
against  a  blank  wall.  It  isn't  easy  to  explain  how  I 
feel — but  I've  no  confidence  in  myself " 

"  You!    No  confidence?     How  absurd!" 

"  It's  true,"  he  said  a  little  sullenly. 

"  You  are  having  a  spasm  of  progressive  develop 
ment,"  she  said,  calmly.  "  You  take  it  as  a  child  takes 
teething — with  a  squirm  and  a  mental  howl  instead  of 
a  physical  yell." 

He  laughed.  "  I  suppose  it's  something  of  that 
sort.  But  there's  more — a  self-distrust  amounting  to 
self-disgust  at  moments.  .  .  .  Stephanie,  I  want  to  do 
something  good ' 

"  You  have — dozens  of  times." 

"  People  say  so.  The  world  forgets  what  is  really 
good —  "  he  made  a  nervous  gesture — "  always  before  us 
poor  twentieth-century  men  looms  the  goal  guarded  by 
the  vast,  austere,  menacing  phantoms  of  the  Masters." 


"'I  know  it  is  you.     Is  it?'" 

"  Nobody  ever  won  a  race  looking  behind  him,"  she 
said,  gaily ;  "  let  'em  menace  and  loom ! " 

He  laughed  in  a  half-hearted  fashion,  then  his  head 
fell  again  slowly,  and  he  sat  there  brooding,  silent. 

"  Louis,  why  are  you  always  dissatisfied?  " 

"  I  always  will  be,  I  suppose."     His  discontented 
gaze  grew  more  vague. 

125 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Yes.     What  are  you  doing?     Where  are  you?" 

"  At  Ashuelyn,  my  sister's  home." 

"  Oh !  Well,  it  is  perfectly  sweet  of  you  to  think 
of  me  and  to  call  me  up " 

"  I  usually — I — well,  naturally  I  think  of  you.  I 
thought  I'd  just  call  you  up  to  say  good  night.  You 
see  my  train  doesn't  get  in  until  one  this  morning ;  and 
of  course  I  couldn't  wake  you " 

"  Yes,  you  could.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  have 
you  wake  me." 

"  But  that  would  be  the  limit ! " 

"  Is  that  your  limit,  Louis  ?  If  it  is  you  will  never 
disturb  my  peace  of  mind."  He  heard  her  laughing  at 
the  other  end  of  the  wire,  delighted  with  her  own 
audacity. 

He  said :  "  Shall  I  call  you  up  at  one  o'clock  when 
I  get  into  town  ?  " 

"Try  it.     I  may  awake." 

"  Very  well  then.    I'll  make  them  ring  till  daylight." 

"  Oh,  they  won't  have  to  do  that !  I  always  know, 
about  five  minutes  before  you  call  me,  that  you  are 
going  to." 

"  You  uncanny  little  thing !  You've  said  that  be 
fore." 

"  It's  true.  I  knew  before  you  called  me  that  you 
would.  It's  a  vague  feeling — a — I  don't  know.  .  .  . 
And  oh,  Louis,  it  is  hot  in  this  room!  Are  you  cool 
out  there  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  hate  to  be  when  I  think  of  you " 

"  I'm  glad  you  are.  It's  one  comfort,  anyway. 
John  Buries  on  called  me  up  and  asked  me  to  go  to 
Manhattan  Beach,  but  somehow  it  ^didn't  appeal  to  me. 
.  .  .  I've  rather  missed  you." 

128 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Have  you?" 

"  Really." 

"  Well,  I'll  admit  I've  missed  you." 

"Really?" 

"  Sure  thing !  I  wish  to  heaven  I  were  in  town 
now.  We  would  go  somewhere." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  so,  too." 

"Isn't  it  the  limit!" 

"  It  is,  Kelly.  Can't  you  be  a  real  god  for  a 
moment  and  come  floating  into  my  room  in  a  golden 
cloud?" 

"Shall  I  try?" 

"  Please  do." 

"  All  right.     I'll  do  my  god-like  best.     And  any 
way  I'll  call  you  up  at  one.     Good  night." 
""Good  night." 

He  went  back  to  the  girl  waiting  for  him  in  the 
starlight. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  smiling  at  his  altered  expression, 
"  you  certainly  have  recovered  your  spirits." 

He  laughed  and  took  her  unreluctant  fingers  and 
kissed  them — a  boyishly  impulsive  expression  of  the 
gay  spirits  which  might  have  perplexed  him  or  worried 
him  to  account  for  if  he  had  tried  to  analyse  them. 
But  he  didn't;  he  was  merely  conscious  of  a  sudden 
inrush  of  high  spirits — of  a  warm  feeling  for  all  the 
world — this  star-set  world,  so  still  and  sweet-scented. 

"  Stephanie,  dear,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  you  know 
perfectly  well  that  I  think — always  have  thought — that 
there  was  nobody  like  you.  You  know  that,  don't 
you?" 

She  laughed,  but  her  pulses  quickened  a  little. 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"Yes.     What  are  you  doing?     Where  are  you?" 

"  At  Ashuelyn,  my  sister's  home." 

"  Oh !  Well,  it  is  perfectly  sweet  of  you  to  think 
of  me  and  to  call  me  up " 

"  I  usually — I — well,  naturally  I  think  of  you.  I 
thought  I'd  just  call  you  up  to  say  good  night.  You 
see  my  train  doesn't  get  in  until  one  this  morning ;  and 
of  course  I  couldn't  wake  you " 

"  Yes,  you  could.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  have 
you  wake  me." 

"  But  that  would  be  the  limit !  " 

"  Is  that  your  limit,  Louis  ?  If  it  is  you  will  never 
disturb  my  peace  of  mind."  He  heard  her  laughing  at 
the  other  end  of  the  wire,  delighted  with  her  own 
audacity. 

He  said :  "  Shall  I  call  you  up  at  one  o'clock  when 
I  get  into  town  ?  " 

"  Try  it.     I  may  awake." 

"  Very  well  then.    I'll  make  them  ring  till  daylight." 

"  Oh,  they  won't  have  to  do  that !  I  always  know, 
about  five  minutes  before  you  call  me,  that  you  are 
going  to." 

"  You  uncanny  little  thing !  You've  said  that  be 
fore." 

"  It's  true.  I  knew  before  you  called  me  that  you 
would.  It's  a  vague  feeling — a — I  don't  know.  .  .  . 
And  oh,  Louis,  it  is  hot  in  this  room!  Are  you  cool 
out  there  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  hate  to  be  when  I  think  of  you " 

"  I'm  glad  you  are.  It's  one  comfort,  anyway. 
John  Buries  on  called  me  up  and  asked  me  to  go  to 
Manhattan  Beach,  but  somehow  it  ^didn't  appeal  to  me. 
.  .  .  I've  rather  missed  you." 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"Have  you?" 

"  Really." 

"  Well,  I'll  admit  I've  missed  you." 

"Really?" 

"  Sure  thing !  I  wish  to  heaven  I  were  in  town 
now.  We  would  go  somewhere." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  so,  too." 

"  Isn't  it  the  limit !  " 

"  It  is,  Kelly.  Can't  you  be  a  real  god  for  a 
moment  and  come  floating  into  my  room  in  a  golden 
cloud?" 

"Shall  I  try?" 

"  Please  do." 

"  All  right.     I'll  do  my  god-like  best.     And  any- 
wav  I'll  call  you  up  at  one.     Good  night." 
'"Good  night." 

He  went  back  to  the  girl  waiting  for  him  in  the 
starlight. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  smiling  at  his  altered  expression, 
"  you  certainly  have  recovered  your  spirits." 

He  laughed  and  took  her  unreluctant  fingers  and 
kissed  them — a  boyishly  impulsive  expression  of  the 
gay  spirits  which  might  have  perplexed  him  or  worried 
him  to  account  for  if  he  had  tried  to  analyse  them. 
But  he  didn't ;  he  was  merely  conscious  of  a  sudden 
inrush  of  high  spirits — of  a  warm  feeling  for  all  the 
world — this  star-set  world,  so  still  and  sweet-scented. 

"  Stephanie,  dear,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  you  know 
perfectly  well  that  I  think — always  have  thought — that 
there  was  nobody  like  you.  You  know  that,  don't 
you?" 

She  laughed,  but  her  pulses  quickened  a  little. 
129 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Well,  then,"  he  went  on.  "  I  take  it  for  granted 
that  our  understanding  is  as  delightfully  thorough  as 
it  has  always  been — a  warm,  cordial  intimacy  which 
leaves  us  perfectly  unembarrassed — perfectly  free  to 
express  our  affection  for  each  other  without  fear  of 
being  misunderstood." 

The  girl  lifted  her  blue  eyes :  "  Of  course." 

"That's  what  I  told  Lily,"  he  nodded,  delighted. 
"  I  told  her  that  you  and  I  understood  each  other — 
that  it  was  silly  of  her  to  suspect  anything  sentimental 
in  our  comradeship ;  that  whenever  the  real  thing  put 
in  an  appearance  and  came  tagging  down  the  pike  after 
you,  you'd  sink  the  gaff  into  him " 

"The— what?" 

"  Rope  him  and  paste  your  monogram  all  over 
him." 

"  I  certainly  will,"  she  said,  laughing.  Eyes  and 
lips  and  voice  were  steady ;  but  the  tumult  in  her  brain 
confused  her. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  told  Lily,"  he  said.  "  She 
seems  to  think  that  if  two  people  frankly  enjoy  each 
other's  society  they  want  to  marry  each  other.  All 
married  women  are  that  way.  Like  clever  decoys  they 
take  genuine  pleasure  in  bringing  the  passing  string 
under  the  guns." 

He  laughed  and  kissed  her  pretty  fingers   again: 

"  Don't  you  listen  to  my  sister.  Freedom's  a  good 
thing;  and  people  are  selfish  when  happy;  they  don't 
set  up  a  racket  to  attract  others  into  their  private 
paradise." 

"  Oh,  Louis,  that  is  really  horrid  of  you.  Don't 
you  think  Lily  is  happy?  " 

"  Sure — in  a  way.  You  can't  have  a  perfectly 
130 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


good  husband  and  baby,  and  have  the  fun  of  being 
courted  by  other  aspirants,  too.  Of  course  married 
women  are  happy;  but  they  give  up  a  lot.  And  some 
times  it  slightly  irritates  them  to  remember  it  when 
they  see  the  unmarried  innocently  frisking  as  they  once 
frisked.  And  it's  their  instinct  to  call  out  4  Come  in ! 
Matrimony's  fine!  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
missing ! ' : 

Stephanie  laughed  and  lay  back  in  her  steamer 
chair,  her  hand  abandoned  to  him.  And  when  her 
mirth  had  passed  a  slight  sense  of  fatigue  left  her  silent, 
inert,  staring  at  nothing. 

When  the  time  came  to  say  adieu  he  kissed  her  as 
he  sometimes  did,  with  a  smiling  and  impersonal  tender 
ness — not  conscious  of  the  source  of  all  this  happy, 
demonstrative,  half  impatient  animation  which  seemed 
to  possess  him  in  every  fibre. 

"  Good-bye,  you  dear  girl,"  he  said,  as  the  lights 
of  the  motor  lit  up  the  drive.  "  I've  had  a  bully  time, 
and  I'll  see  you  soon  again." 

"  Come  when  you  can,  Louis.  There  is  no  man  I 
would  rather  see." 

"  And  no  girl  I  would  rather  go  to,"  he  said, 
warmly,  scarcely  thinking  what  he  was  saying. 

Their  clasped  hands  relaxed,  fell  apart.  He  went  in 
to  take  leave  of  Lily  and  Gordon  and  their  guests,  then 
emerged  hastily  and  sprang  into  the  car. 

Overhead  the  June  stars  watched  him  as  he  sped 
through  the  fragrant  darkness.  But  with  him,  time 
lagged;  even  the  train  crawled  as  he  timed  it  to  the 
ticking  seconds  of  his  opened  watch. 

In  the  city  a  taxi  swallowed  him  and  his  haste ;  and 
it  seemed  as  though  he  would  never  get  to  his  studio 

181 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


and  to  the  telephone;  but  at  last  he  heard  her  voice — 
a  demure,  laughing  little  voice: 

"  I  didn't  think  you'd  be  brute  enough  to  do  it ! " 

"  But  you  said  I  might  call  you " 

"  There  are  many  tilings  that  a  girl  says  from 
which  she  expects  a  man  to  infer,  tactfully  and  merci 
fully,  the  contrary." 

"  Did  I  wake  you,  Valerie?    I'm  terribly  sorry " 

*'  If  you  are  sorry  I'll  retire  to  my  pillow " 

*'  I'll  ring  you  up  again !  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  employ  threats  I  think  I'd  better  listen 
to  you.  What  have  you  to  say  to  me?  " 

"  What  were  you  doing  when   I  rang  you  up  ?  " 
"  I  wish   I   could  say  that   I  was   asleep.      But  I 
can't.     And  if  I  tell  the  truth  I've  got  to  flatter  you. 
So  I  refuse  to  answer." 

"  You  were  not  waiting  up  for " 

"Kelly!     I  refuse  to  answer!     Anyway  you  didn't 
keep  your  word  to  me." 
"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  promised  to  appear  in  a  golden  cloud !  " 
"  Something  went   wrong  with  the  Olympian   ma 
chinery,"   he  explained,   "  and   I  was   obliged  to   take 
the  train.  .  .  .  What  are  you  doing  there,  anyway  ?  " 
"Now?" 
"  Yes,  now." 

"  Why,  I'm  sitting  at  the  telephone  in  my  night 
dress  talking  to  an  exceedingly  inquisitive  gentle 
man " 

"  I  mean  were  you  reading  more  psalms  ?  " 

"  No.     If  you  must  know,  I  was  reading  '  Bocae- 


He  could  hear  her  laughing. 
132 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  was  meaning  to  ask  you  how  you'd  spent  the 
day,"  he  began.  "  Haven't  you  been  out  at  all?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     I'm  not  under  vows,  Kelly." 

"Where?" 

"  Now  I  wonder  whether  I'm  expected  to  account 
for  every  minute  when  I'm  not  with  you?  I'm  be 
ginning  to  believe  that  it's  a  sort  of  monstrous  vanity 
that  incites  you  to  such  questions.  And  I'm  going  to 
inform  you  that  I  did  not  spend  the  day  sitting  by  the 
window  and  thinking  about  you." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"  I  motored  in  the  Park.  I  lunched  at  Wood- 
manston  with  a  perfectly  good  young  man.  I  en 
joyed  it." 

"Who  was  the  man?" 

"  Sam." 

"  Oh,"  said  Neville,  laughing. 

"  You  make  me  perfectly  furious  by  laughing,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  that  I'd  been  to 
Niagara  Falls  with  Jose  Querida !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  believe  it,  anyway." 

66 1  wouldn't  believe  it  myself,  even  if  I  had  done  it," 
she  said,  naively.  There  was  a  pause;  then: 

"  I'm  going  to  retire.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  Valerie." 

"  Louis ! " 

"What?" 

"  You  say  the  golden-cloud  machinery  isn't  work- 


ing?  " 


"  It  seems  to  have  slipped  a  cog." 
"  Oh  !     I  thought  you  might  have  mended  it  and 
that  —  perhaps  —  I    had    better    not    leave    my    window 


open." 


133 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  That  cloud  is  warranted  to  float  through  solid 
masonry." 

"  You  alarm  me,  Kelly." 

"  I'm  sorry,  but  the  gods  never  announce  their 
visits." 

"  I  know  it.  ...  And  I  suppose  I  must  sleep  in  a 
dinner  gown.  When  one  receives  a  god  it's  a  full-dress 
affair,  isn't  it?" 

He  laughed,  not  mistaking  her  innocent  audacity. 

"  Unexpected  Olympians  must  take  their  chances," 
he  said.  ".  .  .  Are  you  sleepy  ?  " 

"  Fearfully." 

"  Then  I  won't  keep  you " 

"  But  I  hope  you  won't  be  rude  enough  to  dismiss 
me  before  I  have  a  chance  to  give  you  your  conge!  " 

"  You  blessed  child.  I  could  stay  here  all  night 
listening  to  you " 

"Could  you?     That's  a  temptation." 

"To  you,  Valerie?" 

"  Yes — a  temptation  to  make  a  splendid  exit. 
Every  girl  adores  being  regretted.  So  I'll  hang  up  the 
receiver,  I  think.  .  .  .  Good  night,  Kelly,  dear.  .  .  . 
Good  night,  Louis.  A  demain! — non — pardon!  a  bien 
tot! — parceque  il  est  deux  Tieures  de  matin!  Et — 
vous  m'avez  rendu  bien  heureuse." 


CHAPTER    V 

TOWARD  the  last  of  June  Neville  left  town  to  spend 
a  month  with  his  father  and  mother  at  their  summer 
home  near  Portsmouth.  Valerie  had  already  gone  to 
the  mountains  with  Rita  Tevis,  gaily  refusing  her 
address  to  everybody.  And,  packing  their  steamer 
trunks  and  satchels,  the  two  young  girls  departed 
triumphantly  for  the  unindicated  but  modest  boarding- 
house  tucked  away  somewhere  amid  the  hills  of  Delaware 
County,  determined  to  enjoy  every  minute  of  a  vaca 
tion  well  earned,  and  a  surcease  from  the  round  of 
urban  and  suburban  gaiety  which  the  advent  of  July 
made  a  labour  instead  of  a  relaxation. 

From  some  caprice  or  other  Valerie  had  decided 
that  her  whereabouts  should  remain  unknown  even  to 
Neville.  And  for  a  week  it  suited  her  perfectly.  She 
swam  in  the  stump-pond  with  Rita,  drove  a  buckboard 
with  Rita,  fished  industriously  with  Rita,  played  tennis 
on  a  rutty  court,  danced  rural  dances  at  a  "  platform," 
went  to  church  and  giggled  like  a  schoolgirl,  and 
rocked  madly  on  the  veranda  in  a  rickety  rocking-chair, 
demurely  tolerant  of  the  adoration  of  two  boys  working 
their  way  through  college,  a  smartly  dressed  and  very 
confident  drummer  doing  his  two  weeks,  and  several 
assorted  and  ardent  young  men  who,  at  odd  moments, 
had  persuaded  her  to  straw  rides  and  soda  at  the  village 
druggists. 

135 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


And  all  the  while  she  giggled  with  Rita  in  a  most 
shameless  and  undignified  fashion,  went  about  hatless, 
with  hair  blowing  and  sleeves  rolled  up;  decorated  a 
donation  party  at  the  local  minister's  and  flirted  with 
him  till  his  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses  protruded ;  behaved 


"A  smartly  dressed  and  very  confident  drummer." 

like  a  thoughtful  and  considerate  angel  to  the  old,  un 
interesting  and  infirm ;  romped  like  a  young  goddess 
with  the  adoring  children  of  the  boarders,  and  was 
fiercely  detested  by  the  crocheting  spinsters  rocking 
in  acidulated  rows  on  the  piazza. 

The  table  was  meagre  and  awful  and  pruneful ;  but 
136 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


she  ate  with  an  appetite  that  amazed  Rita,  whose  so 
phisticated  palate  was  grossly  insulted  thrice  daily. 

"  How  on  earth  you  can  contrive  to  eat  that  hash," 
she  said,  resentfully,  "  I  don't  understand.  When  my 
Maillard's  give  out  I'll  quietly  starve  in  a  daisy  field 
somewhere." 

"  Close  your  eyes  and  pretend  you  and  Sam  are 
dining  at  the  Knickerbocker,"  suggested  Valerie,  cheer 
fully.  "  That's  what  I  do  when  the  food  doesn't  appeal 
to  me." 

"  With  whom   do  you   pretend  you   are   dining  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  with  Louis  Neville,  sometimes  with  Que- 
rida,"  she  said,  frankly.  "  It  helps  the  hash  wonder 
fully.  Try  it,  dear.  Close  your  eyes  and  visualise  some 
agreeable  man,  and  the  food  isn't  so  very  awful." 

Rita  laughed :  "  I'm  not  as  fond  of  men  as  that." 

"  Aren't  you  ?  I  am.  I  do  like  an  agreeable  man, 
and  I  don't  mind  saying  so." 

"  I've  observed  that,"  said  Rita,  still  laughing. 

"  Of  course  you  have.  I've  spent  too  many  years 
without  them  not  to  enjoy  them  now — bless  their  funny 
hearts!" 

"  I'm  glad  there  are  no  men  here,"  observed  Rita. 

"  But  there  are  men  here,"  said  Valerie,  innocently. 

"  Substitutes.     Lemons." 

"  The  minister  is  superficially  educated " 

«  He's  a  muff." 

"  A  nice  muff.      I  let  him  pat  my  gloved  hand." 

"  You  wicked  child.     He's  married." 

"  He  only  patted  it  in  spiritual  emphasis,  dear. 
Married  or  single  he's  more  agreeable  to  me  than  that 
multi-coloured  drummer.  I  let  the  creature  drive  me 
to  the  post  office  in  a  buckboard,  and  he  continued  to 

137 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


sit  closer  until  I  took  the  reins,  snapped  the  whip,  and 
drove  at  a  gallop  over  that  terrible  stony  road.  And 
he  is  so  fat  that  it  nearly  killed  him.  It  killed  all 
sentiment  in  him,  anyway." 

Rita,  stretched  lazily  in  a  hammock  and  display 
ing  a  perfectly  shod  foot  and  silken  ankle  to  the  rage 
of  the  crocheters  on  the  veranda,  said  dreamily : 

"  The  unfortunate  thing  about  us  is  that  we  know 
too  much  to  like  the  only  sort  of  men  who  are  likely  to 
want  to  marry  us." 

"  What  of  it?  "  laughed  Valerie.  "  We  don't  want 
to  marry  them — or  anybody.  Do  we?  " 

"Don't  you?" 

"Don't  I  what?" 

"Want  to  get  married?" 

"  I  should  think  not." 

"Never?" 

"  Not  if  I  feel  about  it  as  I  do  now.  I've  never  had 
enough  play,  Rita.  I've  missed  all  those  years  that 
you've  had — that  most  girls  have  had.  I  never  had 
any  boys  to  play  with.  That's  really  all  I  am  doing 
now — playing  with  grown-up  boys.  That's  all  I  am 
— merely  a  grown-up  girl  with  a  child's  heart." 

"  A  heart  of  gold,"  murmured  Rita,  "  you  darling." 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  all  gold  by  any  means !  It's  full  of 
silver  whims  and  brassy  selfishness  and  tin  meannesses 
and  senseless  ideas — full  of  fiery,  coppery  mischief,  too ; 
and,  sometimes,  I  think,  a  little  malice — perhaps  a  kind 
of  diluted  deviltry.  But  it's  a  hungry  heart,  dear, 
hungry  for  laughter  and  companionship  and  friendship 
— with  a  capacity  for  happiness !  Ah,  you  don't  know, 
dear — you  never  can  know  how  capable  I  am  of  friend 
ship  and  happiness !  " 

138 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"And — sentiment?  " 

"  I— don't— know." 

"  Better  watch  out,  sweetness  !  " 

"  I  do." 

Rita  said  thoughtfully,  swinging  in  her  hammock: 

"  Sentiment,  for  us,  is  no  good.     I've  learned  that." 

"You?" 

"  Of  course." 

"How?" 

"  Experience,"  said  Rita,  carelessly.  "  Every  girl 
is  bound  to  have  it.  She  doesn't  have  to  hunt  for  it, 
either." 

"Were  you  ever  in — love?"  asked  Valerie,  curi 
ously. 

"  Now,  dear,  if  I  ever  had  been  happily  in  love  is  it 
likely  you  wouldn't  know  it?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Valerie.  .  .  .  She  added,  mus 
ingly  : 

"  I  wonder  what  will  become  of  me  if  I  ever  fall 
in  love." 

"  If  you'll  take  my  advice  you'll  run.2 

"Run?     Where?     For  goodness'  sake! 

"  Anywhere  until  you  became  convalescent.3 

"  That  would  be  a  ridiculous  idea,"  remarked  Valerie 
so  seriously  that  Rita  began  to  laugh: 

"  You  sweet  thing,"  she  said,  "  it's  a  million  chances 
that  you'd  be  contented  only  with  the  sort  of  man 
who  wouldn't  marry  you." 

"  Because  I'm  poor,  you  mean?  Or  because  I  am 
working  for  my  living?  " 

"  Both — and  then  some." 

"What  else?" 

"  Why,  the  only  sort  of  men  who'd  attract  you  have 
139 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


come  out  of  their  own  world  of  their  own  accord  to- 
play  about  for  a  while  in  our  world.  They  can  go 
back ;  that  is  the  law.  But  they  can't  take  us  with 
them." 

"  They'd  be  ashamed,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not.  A  man  is  likely  enough  to  try. 
But  alas !  for  us,  if  we're  silly  enough  to  go.  I  tell 
you,  Valerie,  that  their  world  is  full  of  mothers  and 
sisters  and  feminine  relatives  and  friends  who  could  no 
more  endure  us  than  they  would  permit  us  to  endure 
them.  It  takes  courage  for  a  man  to  ask  us  to  go  into 
that  world  with  him;  it  takes  more  for  us  to  do  it. 
And  our  courage  is  vain.  We  stand  no  chance.  It 
means  a  rupture  of  all  his  relations;  and  a  drifting — 
not  into  our  world,  not  into  his,  but  into  a  horrible 
midway  void,  peopled  by  derelicts.  ...  I  know,  dear, 
believe  me.  And  I  say  that  to  fall  in  love  is  no  good, 
no  use,  for  us.  We've  been  spoiled  for  what  we  might 
once  have  found  satisfactory.  We  are  people  without 
a  class,  you  and  I." 

Valerie  laughed :  "  That  gives  us  the  more  liberty, 
doesn't  it?" 

"  It's  up  to  us,  dear.  We  are  our  own  law,  social 
and  spiritual.  If  we  live  inside  it  we  are  not  going  to 
be  any  too  happy.  If  we  live  without  it — I  don't  know. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  whether  some  of  the  pretty  girls 
you  and  I  see  at  Rector's " 

"  I've  wondered,  too.  .  .  .  They  look  happy — some 
of  them." 

"  I  suppose  they  are — for  a  while.  .  .  .  But  the 
worst  of  it  is  that  it  never  lasts." 

"  I  suppose  not."  Valerie  pondered,  grave,  velvet- 
eyed,  idly  twisting  a  grass  stem. 

140 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  a  brief  happiness 
— with  love — is  worth  the  consequences." 

"  Many  women  risk  it.  ...  I  wonder  how  many 
men,  if  social  conditions  were  reversed,  would  risk  it? 
Not  many,  Valerie." 

They  remained  silent;  Rita  lay  in  the  shadow  of 
the  maples,  eyes  closed ;  Valerie  plaited  her  grass  stems 
with  absent-minded  industry. 

"  I  never  yet  wished  to  marry  a  -man,"  she  observed, 
presently. 

Rita  made  no   response. 

"  Because,"  continued  the  girl  with  quaint  pre 
cision,  "  I  never  yet  wanted  anything  that  was  not 
offered  freely ;  even  friendship.  I  think — I  don't  know 
— but  I  think — if  any  man  offered  me  love — and  I 
found  that  I  could  respond — I  think  that,  if  I  took  it, 
I'd  be  contented  with  love — and  ask  nothing  further 
— wish  nothing  else — unless  he  wanted  it,  too." 

Rita  opened  her  eyes. 

Valerie,  plaiting  her  grass  very  deftly,  smiled  to 
herself. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  love,  Rita ;  but  I  believe 
it  is  supreme  contentment.  And  if  it  is — what  is  the 
use  of  asking  for  more  than  contents  one?  " 

"  It's  safer." 

"  Oh — I  know  that.  .  .  .  I've  read  enough  news 
papers  and  novels  and  real  literature  to  know  that.  In 
cidentally  the  Scriptures  treat  of  it.  ...  But,  after 
all,  love  is  love.  You  can't  make  it  more  than  it  is  by 
law  and  custom ;  you  can't  make  it  less ;  you  can't  sum 
mon  it ;  you  can't  dismiss  it.  ...  And  I  believe  that 
I'd  be  inclined  to  take  it,  however  offered,  if  it  were 
really  love." 

141 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  That  is  unmoral,  dear,"  said  Rita,  smiling. 

"  I'm  not  unmoral,  am  I  ?  " 

"  Well — your  philosophy  sounds  Pagan." 

"Does  it?  Then,  as  you  say,  perhaps  I'd  better 
run  if  anything  resembling  love  threatens  me." 

"  The  nymphs  ran — in  Pagan  times." 

"  And  the  gods  ran  after  them,"  returned  Valerie, 
laughing.  "  I've  a  very  fine  specimen  of  god  as  a 
friend,  by  the  way — a  Protean  gentleman  with  three 
quick-change  stunts.  He's  a  perfectly  good  god, 
too,  but  he  never  ran  after  me  or  tried  to  kiss 
me." 

"  You  don't  mean  Querida,  then." 

"  No.     He's  no  god." 

"  Demi-god." 

"  Not  even  that,"  said  Valerie ;  "  he's  a  sentimental 
shepherd  who  likes  to  lie  with  his  handsome  head  in  a 
girl's  lap  and  make  lazy  eyes  at  her." 

"  I  know,"  nodded  Rita.  "  Look  out  for  that  shep 
herd." 

"Does  he  bite?" 

"  No ;  there's  the  trouble.     Anybody  can  pet  him." 

Valerie  laughed,  turned  over,  and  lay  at  length  on 
her  stomach  in  the  grass,  exploring  the  verdure  for  a 
four-leaf  clover. 

"  I  never  yet  found  one,"  she  said,  cheerfully. 
"  But  then  I've  never  before  seen  much  grass  except  in 
the  Park." 

"  Didn't  you  ever  go  to  the  country  ?  " 

"  No.  Mother  was  a  widow  and  bedridden.  We 
had  a  tiny  income ;  I  have  it  now.  But  it  wasn't  enough 
to  take  us  to  the  country." 

"Didn't  you  work?" 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  couldn't  leave  mother.  Besides,  she  wished  to 
educate  me." 

"  Didn't  you  go  to  school?  " 

"  Only  a  few  months.  We  had  father's  books.  We 
managed  to  buy  a  few  more — or  borrow  them  from  the 
library.  And  that  is  how  I  was  educated,  Rita — in  a 
room  with  a  bedridden  mother." 

"  She  must  have  been  well  educated." 

"  I  should  think  so.  She  was  a  college  graduate. 
...  When  I  was  fifteen  I  took  the  examinations  for 
Barnard — knowing,  of  course,  that  I  couldn't  go — and 
passed  in  everything.  ...  If  mother  could  have  spared 
me  I  could  have  had  a  scholarship." 

"  That  was  hard  luck,  wasn't  it,  dear?  " 

"  N-no.  I  had  mother — as  long  as  she  lived.  After 
she  died  I  had  what  she  had  given  me — and  she  had  the 
education  of  a  cultivated  woman ;  she  was  a  lover  of  the 
best  in  literature  and  in  art,  a  woman  gently  bred,  fa 
miliar  with  sorrow  and  privation." 

"  If  you  choose,"  said  Rita,  "  you  are  equipped 
for  a  governess — or  a  lady's  companion — or  a  secre- 
tary- 

"  I  suppose  I  am.  Before  I  signed  with  Schindler  I 
advertised,  offering  myself  as  a  teacher.  How  many 
replies  do  you  suppose  I  received?  " 

"How  many?" 

"  Not  one." 

Rita  sighed.  "  I  suppose  you  couldn't  afford  to  go 
on  advertising." 

"  No,  and  I  couldn't  afford  to  wait.  .  .  .  Mother's 
burial  took  all  the  little  income.  I  was  glad  enough 
when  Schindler  signed  me.  .  .  .  But  a  girl  can't  remain 
long  with  Schindler." 

143 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  I  know." 

Valerie  plucked  a  grass  blade  and  bit  it  in  two  re 
flectively. 

"  It's  a  funny  sort  of  a  world,  isn't  it,  Rita?  " 

"  Very  humorous — if  you  look  at  it  that  way." 

"Don't  you?" 

"  Not  entirely." 

Valerie  glanced  up  at  the  hammock. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  become  a  model,  Rita  ?  " 

"  I'm  a  clergyman's  daughter ;  what  do  you  ex 
pect?  "  she  said,  with  smiling  bitterness. 

"  You!  " 

"  From  Massachusetts,  dear.  .  .  .  The  blue-light 
elders  got  on  my  nerves.  I  wanted  to  study  music,  too, 
with  a  view  to  opera."  She  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"  Was  your  home  life  unhappy,  dear?  " 

"  Does  a  girl  leave  happiness  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  run  away,  did  you?  " 

"  I  did — straight  to  the  metropolis  as  a  moth  to  its 
candle." 

Valerie  waited,  then,  timidly :  "  Did  you  care  to  tell 
me  any  more,  dear?  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  like 
me  to  ask  you.  It  isn't  curiosity." 

"  I  know  it  isn't — you  blessed  child !  I'll  tell  you — 
some  day — perhaps.  .  .  .  Pull  the  rope  and  set  me 
swinging,  please.  .  .  .  Isn't  this  sky  delicious — 
glimpsed  through  the  green  leaves?  Fancy  you're  not 
knowing  the  happiness  of  the  country!  I've  always 
known  it.  Perhaps  the  trouble  was  I  had  too  much  of 
it.  My  town  was  an  ancient,  respectable,  revolutionary 
relic  set  in  a  very  beautiful  rolling  country  near  the  sea ; 
but  I  suppose  I  caught  the  infection — the  country 
rolled,  the  breakers  rolled,  and  finally  I  rolled  out  of 

144 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


it  all — over  and  over  plump  into  Gotham !  And  I  didn't 
land  on  my  feet,  either.  .  .  .  You  are  correct,  Valerie; 
there  is  something  humorous  about  this  world.  .  .  . 
There's  one  of  the  jokes,  now!"  as  a  native  passed, 
hunched  up  on  the  dashboard,  driving  a  horse  and  a 
heifer  in  double  harness. 

"  Shall  we  go  to  the  post  office  with  him?  "  cried 
Valerie,  jumping  to  her  feet. 

"  Now,  dear,  what  is  the  use  of  our  going  to  the 


;  Valerie  sat  cross-legged  on  the  grass  . 
145 


.  scribbling  away," 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


post  office  when  nobody  knows  our  address  and  we 
never  could  possibly  expect  a  letter ! " 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Valerie,  pensively.  "  Rita,  I'm 
beginning  to  think  I'd  like  to  have  a  letter.  I  believe — 
I  believe  that  I'll  write  to — to  somebody." 

"  That  is  more  than  I'll  do,"  yawned  Rita*  closing 
her  eyes.  She  opened  them  presently  and  said: 

"  I've  a  nice  little  writing  case  in  my  trunk.  Sam 
presented  it.  Bring  it  out  here  if  you're  going  to 
write." 

The  next  time  she  unclosed  her  eyes  Valerie  sat 
cross-legged  on  the  grass  by  the  hammock,  the  writing 
case  on  her  lap,  scribbling  away  as  though  she  really 
enjoyed  it. 

The  letter  was  to  Neville.     It  ran  on : 

"  Rita  is  asleep  in  a  hammock ;  she's  too  pretty  for 
words.  I  love  her.  Why  ?  Because  she  loves  me,  silly ! 

"  I'm  a  very  responsive  individual,  Kelly,  and  a  pat 
on  the  head  elicits  purrs. 

"  I  wanb  you  to  write  to  me.  Also,  pray  be  flattered ; 
you  are  the  only  person  on  earth  who  now  has  my  ad 
dress.  I  may  send  it  to  Jose  Querida;  but  that  is  none 
of  your  business.  When  I  saw  the  new  moon  on  the 
stump-pond  last  night  I  certainly  did  wish  for  Querida 
and  a  canoe.  He  can  sing  very  charmingly. 

"  Now  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  under  what  cir 
cumstances  I  have  permitted  myself  to  wish  for  you. 
If  you  talk  to  a  man  about  another  man  he  always 
attempts  to  divert  the  conversation  to  himself.  Yes,  he 
does.  And  you  are  no  better  than  other  men,  Louis — 
not  exempt  from  their  vanities  and  cunning  little  weak 
nesses.  Are  you? 

146 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Well,  then,  as  you  admit  that  you  are  thoroughly 
masculine,  I'll  admit  that  deep  in  a  corner  of  my  heart 
I've  wished  for  you  a  hundred  times.  The  moon  sug 
gests  Querida ;  but  about  everything  suggests  you. 
Now  are  you  flattered? 

"  Anyway,  I  do  want  you.  I  like  you,  Louis  !  I  like 
you,  Mr.  Neville !  And  oh,  Kelly,  I  worship  you,  with 
out  sentiment  or  any  nonsense  in  reserve.  You  are  life, 
you  are  happiness,  you  are  gaiety,  you  are  inspiration, 
you  are  contentment. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  would  be  possible  for  you  to  come 
up  here  for  a  day  or  two  after  your  visit  to  your  par 
ents  is  ended.  I'd  adore  it.  You'd  probably  hate  it. 
Such  food !  Such  beds !  Such  people !  But — could  you 
— would  you  come — just  to  walk  in  the  heavenly  green 
with  me?  I  wonder. 

"  And,  Louis,  I'd  row  you  about  on  the  majestic  ex 
panse  of  the  stump-pond,  and  we'd  listen  to  the  frogs. 
Can  you  desire  anything  more  romantic? 

"  The  trouble  with  you  is  that  you're  romantic  only 
on  canvas.  Anyway,  /  can't  stir  you  to  sentiment.  Can 
I?  True,  I  never  tried.  But  if  you  come  here,  and 
conditions  are  favourable,  and  you  are  so  inclined,  and  I 
am  feeling  lonely,  nobody  can  tell  what  might  happen 
in  a  flat  scow  on  the  stump-pond. 

4  To  be  serious  for  a  moment,  Louis,  I'd  really  love 
to  have  you  come.  You  know  I  never  before  saw  the  real 
country ;  I'm  a  novice  in  the  woods  and  fields,  and,  some 
how,  I'd  like  to  have  you  share  my  novitiate  in  this — as 
you  did  when  I  first  came  to  you.  It  is  a  curious  feel 
ing  I  have  about  anything  new ;  I  wish  you  to  experience 
it  with  me. 

"  Rita  is  awake  and  exploring  the  box  of  Maillard's 
147 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


which  is  about  empty.  Be  a  Samaritan  and  send  me 
some  assorted  chocolates.  Be  a  god,  and  send  me  some 
thing  to  read — anything,  please,  from  Jacobs  to  James. 
There's  latitude  for  you.  Be  a  man,  and  send  me  your 
self.  You  have  no  idea  how  welcome  you'd  be.  The 
chances  are  that  I'd  seize  you  and  embrace  you.  But 
if  you're  willing  to  run  that  risk,  take  your  courage  in 
both  hands  and  come. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  VALERIE  WEST." 

The  second  week  of  her  sojourn  she  caught  a  small 
pickerel — the  only  fish  she  had  ever  caught  in  all  her 
life.  And  she  tearfully  begged  the  yokel  who  was  row 
ing  her  to  replace  the  fish  in  its  native  element.  But  it 
was  too  late ;  and  she  and  Rita  ate  her  victim,  sadly,  for 
dinner. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  an  enormous  box  of  bonbons 
came  for  her.  Neither  she  nor  Rita  were  very  well  next 
day,  but  a  letter  from  Neville  did  wonders  to  restore 
abused  digestion. 

Other  letters,  at  intervals,  cheered  her  immensely,  as 
did  baskets  of  fruit  and  boxes  of  chocolates  and  a  huge 
case  of  books  of  all  kinds. 

"  Never,"  she  said  to  Rita,  "  did  I  ever  hear  of  such 
an  angel  as  Louis  Neville.  When  he  comes  the  first  of 
August  I  wish  you  to  keep  tight  hold  of  me,  because,  if 
he  flees  my  demonstrations,  I  feel  quite  equal  to  running 
him  down." 

But,  curiously  enough,  it  was  a  rather  silent  and 
subdued  young  girl  in  white  who  offered  Neville  a  shy 
and  sun-tanned  hand  as  he  descended  from  the  train  and 
came  forward,  straw  hat  under  one  arm,  to  greet  her. 

148 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  How  well  you  look ! "  he  exclaimed,  laughingly ; 
"  I  never  saw  such  a  flawless  specimen  of  healthy  per 
fection  ! " 


\ 
"'How  well  you  look!'  he  exclaimed." 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  look  like  a  milk-maid,  Kelly ;  I've 
behaved  like  one,  too.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  skin  ?  Do 
you  suppose  this  sun-burn  will  ever  come  off?  " 

"  Instead  of  snow  and  roses  you're  strawberries  and 
6 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


cream,"  he  said — "  and  it's  just  as  fetching,  Valerie. 
How  are  you,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Barely  able  to  sit  up  and  take  nourishment,"  she 
admitted,  demurely.  "...  I  don't  think  you  look  par 
ticularly  vigorous,"  she  added,  more  seriously.  "  You 
are  brown  but  thin." 

"  Thin  as  a  scorched  pancake,"  he  nodded.  "  The 
ocean  was  like  a  vast  plate  of  clam  soup  in  which  I 
simmered  several  times  a  day  until  I've  become  as  leath 
ery  and  attenuated  as  a  punctured  pod  of  kelp.  .  .  . 
Where's  the  rig  we  depart  in,  Valerie?"  he  concluded, 
looking  around  the  sun-scorched,  wooden  platform  with 
smiling  interest. 

"  I  drove  down  to  meet  you  in  a  buck-board." 

"  Splendid !    Is  there  room  for  my  suit  case?  " 

"  Plenty.     I  brought  yards  of  rope." 

They  walked  to  the  rear  of  the  station  where  buck- 
board  and  horse  stood  tethered  to  a  tree.  He  fastened 
his  suit  case  to  the  rear  of  the  vehicle,  swathing  it  se 
curely  in  fathoms  of  rope;  she  sprang  in,  he  followed; 
but  she  begged  him  to  let  her  drive,  and  pulled  on  a 
pair  of  weather-faded  gloves  with  a  business-like  air 
which  was  enchanting. 

So  he  yielded  seat  and  rusty  reins  to  her;  whip  in 
hand,  she  steered  the  fat  horse  through  the  wilderness  of 
arriving  and  departing  carriages  of  every  rural  style 
and  description — stages,  surreys,  mountain-waggons, 
buck-boards  —  drove  across  the  railroad  track,  and 
turned  up  a  mountain  road — a  gradual  ascent  bordered 
heavily  by  blackberry,  raspberry,  thimble  berry  and  wild 
grape,  and  flanked  by  young  growths  of  beech  and 
maple  set  here  and  there  with  hemlock  and  white  pine. 
But  the  characteristic  foliage  was  laurel  and  rhododen- 

150 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


dron — endless  stretches  of  the  glossy  undergrowth  fring 
ing  every  woodland,  every  diamond-clear  water-course. 

"  It  must  be  charming  when  it's  in  blossom,"  he  said, 
drawing  the  sweet  air  of  the  uplands  deep  into  his  lungs. 
"  These  streams  look  exceedingly  like  trout,  too.  How 
high  are  we  ?  " 

"  Two  thousand  feet  in  the  pass,  Kelly.  The  hills 
are  much  higher.  You  need  blankets  at  night.  .  .  .'* 
She  turned  her  head  and  smilingly  considered  him : 

"  I  can't  yet  believe  you  are  here." 

"  I've  been  trying  to  realise  it,  too." 

"  Did  you  come  in  your  favourite  cloud  ?  " 

"  No ;  on  an  exceedingly  dirty  train." 

"  You've  a  cinder  mark  on  your  nose." 

"  Thanks."  He  gave  her  his  handkerchief  and  she 
wiped  away  the  smear. 

"  How  long  can  you  stay  ? — Oh,  don't  answer  I 
Please  forget  I  asked  you.  When  you've  got  to  go  just 
tell  me  a  few  minutes  before  your  departure.  .  .  .  The 
main  thing  in  life  is  to  shorten  unhappiness  as  much  as 
possible.  That  is  Rita's  philosophy." 

"  Is  Rita  well?  " 

"  Perfectly — thanks  to  your  bonbons.  She  doesn't 
precisely  banquet  on  the  fare  here — poor  dear !  But 
then,"  she  added,  philosophically,  "  what  can  a  girl  ex 
pect  on  eight  dollars  a  week?  Besides,  Rita  has  been 
spoiled.  I  am  not  unaccustomed  to  fasting  when  what 
is  offered  does  not  interest  me." 

"  You  mean  that  boarding  house  of  yours  in  town  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Also,  when  mother  and  I  kept  house  with  an 
oil  stove  and  two  rooms  the  odour  of  medicine  and  my 
own  cooking  left  me  rather  indifferent  to  the  pleasures 
of  Lucullus." 

151 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"You  poor  child!" 

"  Not  at  all  to  be  pitied — as  long  as  I  had  mother," 
she  said,  with  a  quiet  gravity  that  silenced  him. 

Up,  up,  and  still  up  they  climbed,  the  fat  horse  walk 
ing  leisurely,  nipping  at  blackberry  leaves  here,  snatch 
ing  at  tender  maple  twigs  there.  The  winged  mountain 
beauties — Diana's  butterflies — bearing  on  their  velvety, 
blue-black  pinions  the  silver  bow  of  the  goddess,  flitted 
ahead  of  the  horse — celestial  pilots  to  the  tree-clad 
heights  beyond. 

Save  for  the  noise  of  the  horse's  feet  and  the  crunch 
of  narrow,  iron-tired  wheels,  the  stillness  was  absolute 
under  the  azure  splendour  of  the  heavens. 

"  I  am  not  yet  quite  at  my  ease — quite  accustomed 
to  it,"  she  said. 

"To  what,  Valerie?" 

"  To  the  stillness ;  to  the  remote  horizons.  ...  At 
night  the  vastness  of  things,  the  height  of  the  stars, 
fascinate  me  to  the  edge  of  uneasiness.  And  sometimes 
I  go  and  sit  in  my  room  for  a  wrhile — to  reassure 
myself.  .  .  .  You  see  I  am  used  to  an  enclosure — the 
walls  of  a  room — the  walled-in  streets  of  New  York. 
.  .  .  It's  like  suddenly  stepping  out  of  a  cellar  to  the 
edge  of  eternal  space,  and  looking  down  into  noth- 
ing." 

"  Is  that  the  way  these  rolling  hillocks  of  Delaware 
County  impress  you  ?  "  he  asked,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  Kelly.  If  I  ever  found  myself  in  the  Alps  I 
believe  the  happiness  would  so  utterly  over-awe  me  that 
I'd  remain  in  my  hotel  under  the  bed.  What  are  you 
laughing  at?  Voluptates  commendat  rarior  usus." 

"  Sit  tua  cur  a  sequi,  me  duce  tutus  eris!  "  he  laughed, 
mischievously  testing  her  limit  of  Latin. 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Plus  e  medico  quam  e  morbo  periculi!  "  she  an 
swered,  saucily. 

"  You  cunning  little  thing !  "  he  exclaimed :  "  vix  a 
te  videor  posse  tenere  manus!  " 

"  Di  melius,  quam  nos  moneamus  talia  quenquam!  " 
she  said,  demurely ;  "  Louis,  we  are  becoming  silly !  Be 
sides,  I  probably  know  more  Latin  than  you  do — as  it 
was  my  mother's  favourite  relaxation  to  teach  me  to 
speak  it.  And  I  imagine  that  your  limit  was  your  last 
year  at  Harvard." 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  never  was  so 
snubbed  and  patronised  in  all  my  life !  " 

"  Beware,  then !  "  she  retorted,  with  an  enchanting 
sideway  glance:  "  noli  me  tangere!"  At  the  same  in 
stant  he  was  aware  of  her  arm  in  light,  friendly  contact 
against  his,  and  heard  her  musing  aloud  in  deep  con 
tentment  : 

"  Such  perfect  satisfaction  to  have  you  again,  Louis. 
The  world  is  a  gray  void  without  the  gods." 

And  so,  leisurely,  they  breasted  the  ascent  and  came 
out  across  the  height-of-land.  Here  and  there  a  silvery 
ghost  of  the  shorn  forest  stood,  now  almost  mercifully 
hidden  in  the  green  foliage  of  hard  wood — worthlessly 
young  as  yet  but  beautiful. 

From  tree  to  tree  flickered  the  brilliant  woodpeckers 
— they  of  the  solid  crimson  head  and  ivory-barred  wings. 
The  great  vermilion-tufted  cock-o'-the-woods  called 
querulously;  over  the  steel-blue  stump-ponds  the  blue 
kingfishers  soared  against  the  blue.  It  was  a  sky  world 
of  breezy  bushes  and  ruffled  waters,  of  pathless  fields  and 
dense  young  woodlands,  of  limpid  streams  clattering  over 
greenish  white  rocks,  pouring  into  waterfalls,  spreading 
through  wild  meadows  set  with  iris  and  pink  azalea. 

153 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  How  is  the  work  going,  Louis  ?  "  she  asked,  glanc 
ing  at  him  askance. 

"  It's  stopped." 

"  A  cause  de ?  " 

"  Je  rfen  sais  rien,  Valerie." 

She  flicked  the  harness  with  her  whip,  absently. 
He  also  leaned  back,  thoughtfully  intent  on  the  blue 
hills  in  the  distance. 

"  Has  not  your  desire  to  paint  returned?  " 

"  No." 

"  Do  you  know  why?  " 

"  Partly.  I  am  up  against  a  solid  wall.  There  is 
no  thoroughfare." 

"  Make  one." 

"Through  the  wall?" 

"  Straight  through  it." 

"  Ah,  yes  " — he  murmured — "  but  what  lies  be 
yond?" 

"  It  would  spoil  the  pleasures  of  anticipation  to  know 
beforehand." 

He  turned  to  her :  "  You  are  good  for  me.  Do  you 
know  it?" 

"  Querida  said  that,  too.  He  said  that  I  was  an  ex 
perience  ;  and  that  all  good  work  is  made  up  of  experi 
ences  that  concern  it  only  indirectly." 

"  Do  you  like  Querida?  "  he  asked,  curiously. 

"  Sometimes." 

"Not  always?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  always  more  or  less.  But  sometimes — " 
she  was  silent,  her  dark  eyes  dreaming,  lips  softly 
parted. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  he  inquired,  care 
lessly. 

154 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  By  what,  Louis  ?  "  she  asked,  naively,  interrupted 
in  her  day-dream. 

"  By  hinting — that  sometimes  you  like  Querida — 
more  than  at  others  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  do,"  she  said,  frankly.  "  Besides,  I  don't 
hint  things ;  I  say  them."  She  had  turned  her  head  to 
look  at  him.  Their  eyes  met  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  You  are  funny  about  Querida,"  she  said.  "  Don't 
you  like  him?  " 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  dislike  him." 

"  Oh !  Is  it  the  case  of  Sabidius  ?  '  Non  amo  te, 
Sabidi,  nee  possum  dlcere  quarel '  " 

He  laughed  uneasily :  "  Oh,  no,  I  think  not.  .  .  . 
You  and  he  are  such  excellent  friends  that  I  certainly 
ought  to  like  him  anyway." 

But  she  remained  silent,  musing;  and  on  the  edge 
of  her  upcurled  lip  he  saw  the  faint  smile  lingering, 
then  fading,  leaving  the  oval  face  almost  expres 
sionless. 

So  they  drove  past  the  one-story  post  office  where 
a  group  of  young  people  stood  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  stage  with  its  battered  mail  bags ;  past  the 
stump-pond  where  Valerie  had  caught  her  first  and 
only  fish,  past  a  few  weather-beaten  farm  houses,  a 
white-washed  church,  a  boarding  house  or  two,  a  village 
store,  a  watering-trough,  and  then  drove  up  to  the 
wooden  veranda  where  Rita  rose  from  a  rocker  and 
came  forward  with  hand  outstretched. 

"  Hello,  Rita !  "  he  said,  giving  her  hand  a  friendly 
shake.  "Why  didn't  you  drive  down  with  Valerie?" 

"I?  That  child  would  have  burst  into  tears  at 
such  a  suggestion." 

155 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Probably,"  said  Valerie,  calmly :  "  I  wanted  him 
for  myself.  Now  that  I've  had  him  I'll  share  him." 

She  sprang  lightly  to  the  veranda  ignoring  Neville's 
offered  hand  with  a  smile.  A  hired  man  took  away  the 
horse;  a  boy  picked  up  his  suit  case  and  led  the 
way. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment,"  he  said  to  Valerie  and 
Rita. 

That  evening  at  supper,  a  weird  rite  where  the 
burnt  offering  was  rice  pudding  and  the  stewed  sacrifice 
was  prunes,  Neville  was  presented  to  an  interesting 
assemblage  of  the  free-born. 

There  was  the  clerk,  the  drummer,  the  sales-lady, 
and  ladies  unsaleable  and  damaged  by  carping  years ; 
city-wearied  fathers  of  youngsters  who  called  their 
parents  "  pop  "  and  "  mom  " ;  young  mothers  prema 
turely  aged  and  neglectful  of  their  coiffure  and  shoe- 
heels  ;  simpering  maidenhood,  acid  maidenhood,  sophis 
ticated  maidenhood;  shirt-waisted  manhood,  flippant 
manhood,  full  of  strange  slang  and  double  negatives, 
unresponsively  suspicious  manhood,  and  manhood  dis 
illusioned,  prematurely  tired,  burnt  out  with  the  weari 
ness  of  a  sordid  Harlem  struggle. 

Here  in  the  height-of-land  among  scant  pastures 
and  the  green  charity  which  a  spindling  second-growth 
spread  over  the  nakedness  of  rotting  forest  bones — 
here  amid  the  wasted  uplands  and  into  this  flimsy 
wooden  building  came  the  rank  and  file  of  the  metrop 
olis  in  search  of  air,  of  green,  of  sky,  for  ten  days' 
surcease  from  toil  and  heat  and  the  sad  perplexities  of 
those  with  slender  means. 

Neville,  seated  on  the  veranda  with  Valerie  and  Rita 
156 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


in  the  long  summer  twilight,  -looked  around  him  at 
scenes  quite  new  to  him. 

On  the  lumpy  croquet  ground  where  battered  wick 
ets  and  stakes  awry  constituted  the  centre  of  social 
activity  after  supper,  some  young  girls  were  playing 
in  partnership  with  young  men,  hatless,  striped  of  shirt, 
and  very,  very  yellow  of  foot-gear. 

A  social  favourite,  very  jolly  and  corporeally  re 
dundant,  sat  in  the  hammock  fanning  herself  and  utter 
ing  screams  of  laughter  at  jests  emanating  from  the 
boarding-house  cut-up — a  blonde  young  man  with  rah- 
rah  hair  and  a  brier  pipe. 

Children,  neither  very  clean  nor  very  dirty,  tum 
bled  noisily  about  the  remains  of  a  tennis  court  or 
played  base-ball  in  the  dusty  road.  Ominous  sounds 
arose  from  the  parlour  piano,  where  a  gaunt  maiden 
lady  rested  one  spare  hand  among  the  keys  while 
the  other  languidly  pawed  the  music  of  the  "  Holy 
City." 

Somewhere  in  the  house  a  baby  was  being  spanked 
and  sent  to  bed.  There  came  the  clatter  of  dishes  from 
the  wrecks  of  the  rite  in  the  kitchen,  accompanied  by 
the  warm  perfume  of  dishwater. 

But,  little  by  little  the  high  stars  came  out,  and 
the  gray  veil  fell  gently  over  unloveliness  and  squalour ; 
little  by  little  the  raucous  voices  were  hushed ;  the  scuffle 
and  clatter  and  the  stringy  noise  of  the  piano  died 
away,  till,  distantly,  the  wind  awoke  in  the  woods,  and 
very  far  away  the  rushing  music  of  a  little  brook  sweet 
ened  the  silence. 

Rita,  who  had  been  reading  yesterday's  paper  by 
the  lamplight  which  streamed  over  her  shoulder  from 
the  open  parlour-window,  sighed,  stifled  a  yawn,  laid 

157 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


the  paper  aside,  and  drew  her  pretty  wrap  around  her 
shoulders. 

"  It's  absurd,"  she  said,  plaintively,  "  but  in  this 
place  I  become  horribly  sleepy  by  nine  o'clock.  You 
won't  mind  if  I  go  up,  will  you?  " 

"  Not  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

"  Oh,  Rita !  "  said  Valerie,  reproachfuUy,  "  I  thought 
we  were  going  to  row  Louis  about  on  the  stump-pond !  " 

"  I  am  too  sleepy ;  I'd  merely  fall  overboard,"  said 
Rita,  simply,  gathering  up  her  bonbons.  "  Louis, 
you'll  forgive  me,  won't  you?  I  don't  understand  why, 
but  that  child  never  sleeps." 

They  rose  to  bid  her  good  night.  Valerie's  finger 
tips  rested  a  moment  on  Neville's  sleeve  in  a  light 
gesture  of  excuse  for  leaving  him  and  of  promise  to 
return.  Then  she  went  away  with  Rita. 

When  she  returned,  the  piazza  was  deserted  except 
for  Neville,  who  stood  on  the  steps  smoking  and  looking 
out  across  the  misty  waste. 

"  I  usually  go  up  with  Rita,"  she  said.  "  Rita  is 
a  dear.  But  do  you  know,  I  believe  she  is  not  a  par 
ticularly  happy  girl." 

"Why?"  * 

"  I  don't  know  why.  .  .  .  After  all,  such  a  life — hers 
and  mine — is  only  happy  if  you  make  it  so.  .  .  .  And 
I  don't  believe  she  tries  to  make  it  so.  Perhaps  she 
doesn't  care.  She  is  very  young — and  very  pretty — 
too  young  and  pretty  to  be  so  indifferent — so  tired." 

She  stood  on  the  step  behind  and  above  him,  look 
ing  down  at  his  back  and  his  well-set  shoulders.  They 
were  inviting,  those  firm,  broad,  young  shoulders  of 
liis ;  and  she  laid  both  hands  on  them. 

158 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Shall  I  row  you  about  in  the  flat-boat,  Louis  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  the  paddling " 

"  Not  by  any  means.  I  like  to  row,  if  you  please. 
I  have  cold  cream  and  a  pair  of  gloves,  so  that  I  shall 
acquire  no  blisters." 

They  walked  together  out  to  the  road  and  along 
it,  she  holding  to  her  skirts  and  his  arm,  until  the 
star-lit  pond  came  into  view. 

Afloat  in  the  ancient,  weedy  craft  he  watched  her 
slender  strength  mastering  the  clumsy  oars — watched 
her,  idly  charmed  with  her  beauty  and  the  quaint,  child 
ish  pleasure  that  she  took  in  manoeuvring  among  the 
shoreward  lily  pads  and  stumps  till  clear  water  was 
reached  and  the  little  misty  wavelets  came  slap!  slap! 
against  the  bow. 

"  If  you  were  Querida  you'd  sing  in  an  exceedingly 
agreeable  tenor,"  she  observed. 

"  Not  being  Querida,  and  labouring  further  under 
the  disadvantage  of  a  barytone,  I  won't,"  he  said. 

"  Please,  Louis." 

"  Oh,  very  well — if  you  feel  as  romantic  as  that." 
And  he  began  to  sing : 

"My  wife's  gone  to  the  country, 
Hurrah!     Hurrah!" 

"  Louis !  Stop  it !  Do  you  know  you  are  positively 
corrupt  to  do  such  a  thing  at  such  a  time  as  this  ?  " 

"  Well,  it's  all  I  know,  Valerie " 

"  I  could  cry !  "  she  said,  indignantly,  and  main 
tained  a  dangerous  silence  until  they  drifted  into  the 
still  waters  of  the  outlet  where  the  starlight  silvered 
the  sedge-grass  and  feathery  foliage  formed  a  roof 
above. 

159 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Into  the  leafy  tunnel  they  floated,  oars  shipped; 
she,  cheek  on  hand,  watching  the  fire-flies  on  the  water ; 
he,  rid  of  his  cigarette,  motionless  in  the  stern. 

After  they  had  drifted  half  a  mile  she  seemed  dis 
inclined  to  resume  the  oars ;  so  he  crossed  with  her, 
swung  the  boat,  and  drove  it  foaming  against  the  silent 
current. 

On  the  return  they  said  very  little.  She  stood 
pensive,  distraite,  as  he  tied  the  boat,  then — for  the  road 
was  dark  and  uneven — took  his  arm  and  turned  away 
beside  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  been  very  amusing  company," 
he  ventured. 

She  tightened  her  arm  in  his — a  momentary,  gentle 
pressure : 

"  I'm  merely  too  happy  to  talk,"  she  said.  "  Does 
that  answer  satisfy  you?  " 

Touched  deeply,  he  took  her  hand  which  rested  so 
lightly  on  his  sleeve — a  hand  so  soft  and  fine  of  texture 
— so  cool  and  fresh  and  slender  that  the  youth  and 
fragrance  of  it  drew  his  lips  to  it.  Then  he  reversed 
it  and  kissed  the  palm. 

"  Why,  Louis,"  she  said,  "  I  didn't  think  you  could 
be  so  sentimental." 

"Is  that  sentimental?" 

"Isn't  it?" 

"It  rather  looks  like  it,  doesn't  it?" 

"  Rather." 

"Did  you  mind?" 

"  No.  .  .  .  Only — you  and  I — it  seems — superflu 
ous.  I  don't  think  anything  you  do  could  make  me 
like  you  more  than  I  do." 

"You  sweet  little  thing!" 
160 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  No,  only  loyal,  Kelly.  I  can  never  alter  toward 
you." 

"What's  that?     A  vow!" 

"  Yes — of  constancy  and  of  friendship  eternal." 

"  *  Nomen  amicitia  est;  nomen  inane  -fides! — Friend 
ship  is  only  a  name ;  constancy  an  empty  title,'  "  he 
quoted. 

"Do  you  believe  that?" 

"  Constancy  is  an  honest  wish,  but  a  dishonest 
promise,"  he  said.  "  You  know  it  lies  with  the  gods, 
Valerie." 

"  So  they  say.  But  I  know  myself.  And  I  know 
that,  however  I  may  ever  care  for  anybody  else,  it  can 
never  be  at  your  expense — at  the  cost  of  one  atom  of 
my  regard  for  you.  As  I  care  for  you  now,  so  have 
I  from  the  beginning;  so  will  I  to  the  end;  care  more 
for  you,  perhaps ;  but  never  less,  Louis.  And  that  I 
know." 

More  deeply  moved  than  he  perhaps  cared  to  be,  he 
walked  oh  slowly  in  silence,  measuring  his  step  to 
hers.  In  the  peace  of  the  midnight  world,  in  the  peace 
of  her  presence,  he  was  aware  of  a  tranquillity,  a  rest 
that  he  had  not  known  in  weeks.  Vaguely  first,  then 
uneasily,  he  remembered  that  he  had  not  known  it  since 
her  departure,  and  shook  off  the  revelation  with  in 
stinctive  recoil — dismissed  it,  smiled  at  it  to  have  done 
with  it.  For  such  things  could  not  happen. 

The  woods  were  fragrant  as  they  passed;  a  little 
rill,  swelling  from  the  thicket  of  tangled  jewel-weed, 
welled  up,  bubbling  in  the  starlight.  She  knelt  down 
and  drank  from  her  cupped  hands,  and  offered  him  the 
same  sweet  cup,  holding  it  fragrantly  to  his  lips. 

And  there,  on  their  knees  under  the  stars,  he  touched 
161 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


her  full  child-like  lips  with  his;  and,  laughing,  she  let 
him  kiss  her  again — but  not  a  third  time,  swaying  back 
from  her  knees  to  avoid  him,  then  rising  lithely  to 
her  feet. 

"  The  poor  nymph  and  the  great  god  Kelly ! "  she 
said ;  "  a  new  hero  for  the  pantheon ;  a  new  dryad  to 
weep  over.  Kelly,  I  believe  your  story  of  your  golden 
cloud,  now." 

"Didn't  you  credit  it  before?" 

"  No." 

"  But  now  that  I've  kissed  you,  you  do  believe  it  ?  " 

"  Y-yes." 

"  Then  to  fix  that  belief  more  firmly " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  mustn't,  Kelly — "  she  cried,  her  soft 
voice  hinting  of  hidden  laughter.  "  I'm  quite  sure  that 
my  belief  is  very  firmly  fixed.  Hear  me  recite  my  creed. 
Credo !  I  believe  that  you  are  the  great  god  Kelly, 
perfectly  capable  of  travelling  about  wrapped  in  a 
golden  cloud " 

"  You  are  mocking  at  the  gods !  " 

"No,  I'm  not.  Who  am  I  to  affront  Olympus? 
.  .  .  Wh-what  are  you  going  to  do,  Kelly?  Fly  to 
the  sacred  mount  with  me  ?  " 

But  she  suffered  his  arm  to  remain  around  her 
waist  as  they  moved  slowly  on  through  the  darkness. 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  ?  Tell  me,  Louis. 
I'm  as  tragically  curious  as  Pandora  and  Psyche  and 
Bluebeard's  wife,  melted  into  the  one  and  eternal  fem 
inine." 

"  I'm   going  to-morrow." 

"Oh-h,"   she  said,  softly. 

He  was  silent.     They  walked  on,  she  with  her 
bent  a  little. 

162 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Didn't  you  want  me  to  ?  "  he  asked  at  length. 
"  Not  if  you  care  to  stay.  ...  I  never  want  what 
those  I  care  for  are  indifferent  about." 

"  I    am    not    indifferent.      I    think    I    had    better 

go-" 

"  Is  the  reason  important?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Valerie — I  don't  really  know." 

He  was  thinking  of  this  new  and  sweet  familiarity — 
something  suddenly  born  into  being  under  the  wide 
stars — something  that  had  not  been  a  moment  since, 
and  now  was  —  something  invoked  by  the  vastness 
of  earth  and  sky — something  confirmed  by  the  wind  in 
the  forest. 

"  I  had  better  go,"  he  said. 

Her  silence  acquiesced ;  they  turned  into  the  ragged 
lawn,  ascended  the  dew-wet  steps ;  and  then  he  released 
her  waist. 

The  hallways  were  dark  and  deserted  as  they 
mounted  the  stairs  side  by  side. 

"  This  is  my  door,"  she  said. 

"  Mine  is  on  the  next  floor." 

"  Then — good  night,  Louis." 

He  took  her  hand  in  silence.  After  a  moment  she 
released  it;  laid  both  hands  lightly  on  his  shoulders, 
lifted  her  face  and  kissed  him. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said.  "  You  have  made  this  a 
very  happy  day  in  my  life.  Shall  I  see  you  in  the 
morning?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  I  left  word  to  have  a  horse  ready 
at  daylight.  It  is  not  far  from  that,  now." 

"Then  I  shall  not  see  you  again?" 

"  Not  until  you  come  to  New  York." 

"  Couldn't  you  come  back  for  a  day  ?  Querida  is 
163 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


coming.  Sammy  and  Harry  Annan  are  coming  up 
over  Sunday.  Couldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Valerie,  dear,  I  could—  he  checked  himself ; 
thought  for  a  while  until  the  strain  of  his  set  teeth 
aroused  him  to  consciousness  of  his  own  emotion. 

Rather  white  he  looked  at  her,  searching  for  the 
best  phrase — for  it  was  already  threatening  to  be  a 
matter  of  phrases  now — of  forced  smiles — and  some 
breathing  spot  fit  for  the  leisure  of  self-examination. 

"  I'm  going  back  to  paint,"  he  said.  "  Those  com 
missions  have  waited  long  enough." 

He  strove  to  visualise  his  studio,  to  summon  up  the 
calm  routine  of  the  old  regime — as  though  the  colour 
less  placidity  of  the  past  could  steady  him. 

"  Will  you  need  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  Later — of  course.  Just  now  I've  a  lot  of  men's 
figures  to  deal  with — that  symbolical  affair  for  the  new 
court  house." 

"  Then  you  don't  need  me?  " 

"No."   " 

She  thought  a  moment,  slim  fingers  resting  on  the 
knob  of  her  door,  standing  partly  turned  away  from 
him.  Then,  opening  her  door,  she  stepped  inside,  hesi 
tated,  looked  back: 

"  Good-bye,  Louis,  dear,"  she  said,  gently. 


CHAPTER    VI 

NEVILLE  had  begun  to  see  less  and  less  of  Valerie 
West.  When  she  first  returned  from  the  country  in 
September  she  had  come  to  the  studio  and  had  given 
him  three  or  four  mornings  on  the  portrait  which  he 
had  begun  during  the  previous  summer.  But  the  paint 
ing  of  it  involved  him  in  difficulties  entirely  foreign  to 
him — difficulties  born  of  technical  timidity  of  the  in 
creasing  and  inexplicable  lack  of  self-confidence.  And 
deeply  worried,  he  laid  it  aside.  A  dull,  unreasoning 
anxiety  possessed  him.  Those  who  had  given  him  com 
missions  to  execute  were  commencing  to  importune  him 
for  results.  He  had  never  before  disappointed  any 
client.  Valerie  could  be  of  very  little  service  to  him 
in  the  big  mural  decorations  which,  almost  in  despair, 
he  had  abruptly  started.  Here  and  there,  in  the  im 
posing  compositions  designed  for  the  Court  House,  a 
female  figure,  or  group  of  figures,  was  required,  but, 
in  the  main,  male  figures  filled  the  preliminary  cartoons 
— great  law-givers  and  law-defenders  of  all  ages  and 
all  lands,  in  robes  and  gowns  of  silks;  in  armour,  in 
skins,  in  velvet  and  ermine — men  wearing  doublet,  jack- 
coat,  pourpoint;  men  in  turban  and  caftan,  men  cov 
ered  with  mail  of  all  kinds — armour  of  leather,  of  fibre, 
of  lacquer,  of  quilted  silk,  of  linked  steel,  Milanaise, 
iron  cuirass ;  the  emblazoned  panoply  of  the  Mongol 
paladins;  Timour  Melek's  greaves  of  virgin  gold;  men 
of  all  nations  and  of  all  ages  who  fashioned  or  ex- 

165 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


ecuted  human  law,  from  Moses  to  Caesar,  from  Mo 
hammed  to  Genghis  Kahn  and  the  Golden  Emperor, 
from  Charlemagne  to  Napoleon,  and  down  through 
those  who  made  and  upheld  the  laws  in  the  Western 
world,  beginning  with  Hiawatha,  creator  of  the  Iro- 
quois  Confederacy — the  Great  League. 

His  studio  was  a  confusion  of  silks,  cut  velvets, 
tapestries,  embroideries,  carpets  of  the  East,  lay  figures 
glittering  with  replicas  of  priceless  armour.  Delicate 
fabrics  trailed  over  chair  and  floor  almost  under  foot; 
inlaid  and  gem-hilted  weapons,  illuminated  missals, 
glass-cased  papyri,  gilded  zones,  filets,  girdles,  robes 
of  fur,  hoods,  wallets,  helmets,  hats,  lay  piled  up,  every 
where  in  methodical  disorder.  And  into  and  out  of  the 
studio  passed  male  models  of  all  statures,  all  ages, 
venerable,  bearded  men,  men  in  their  prime,  men  with 
the  hard-hammered  features  and  thick,  sinewy  necks  of 
gladiators,  men  slender  and  pallid  as  dreaming  schol 
ars,  youths  that  might  have  worn  the  gold-red  elf-locks 
and  the  shoulder  cloak  of  Venice,  youth  chiselled  in 
a  beauty  as  dark  and  fierce  as  David  wore  when  the 
mailed  giant  went  crashing  earthward  under  the  smooth 
round  pebble  from  his  sling. 

Valerie's  turn  in  this  splendid  panoply  was  soon 
over.  Even  had  she  been  so  inclined  there  was,  of 
course,  no  place  for  her  to  visit  now,  no  place  to  sit 
and  watch  him  among  all  these  men.  After  hours,  once 
or  twice,  she  came  in  to  tea — to  gossip  a  little  with  the 
old-time  ease,  and  barter  with  him  epigram  for  jest, 
nonsense  for  inconsequence.  Yet,  subtly — after  she 
had  gone  home — she  felt  the  effort.  Either  he  or  she 
had  imperceptibly  changed;  she  knew  not  which  was 
guilty;  but  she  knew. 

166 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Besides,  she  herself  was  now  in  universal  demand — 
and  in  the  furor  of  her  popularity  she  had  been,  from 
the  beginning,  forced  to  choose  among  a  very  few  with 
whom  she  personally  felt  herself  at  ease,  and  to  whom 
she  had  become  confidently  accustomed.  Also,  from  the 
beginning,  she  had  not  found  it  necessary  to  sit  un- 
draped  for  many — a  sculptor  or  two — Burleson  and 
Cary  Graves — Sam  Ogilvy  with  his  eternal  mermaidens, 
Querida — nobody  else.  The  other  engagements  had 
been  for  costume  or,  at  most,  for  head  and  shoulders. 
Illustrators  now  clamoured  for  her  in  modish  garments 
of  the  moment — in  dinner  gown,  ball  gown,  afternoon, 
carriage,  motor,  walking,  tennis,  golf,  riding  costumes ; 
poster  artists  made  her  pretty  features  popular;  pho 
tographs  of  her  in  every  style  of  indoor  and  outdoor 
garb  decorated  advertisements  in  the  backs  of  monthly 
magazines.  She  was  seen  turning  on  the  water  in  model 
bathtubs,  offering  the  admiring  reader  a  box  of  bon 
bons,  demurely  displaying  a  brand  of  hosiery,  recom 
mending  cold  cream,  baked  beans,  railroad  routes,  tooth 
powder,  and  real-estate  on  Long  Island. 

Her  beauty,  the  innocent  loveliness  of  her  features, 
her  dainty  modest  charm,  the  enchanting  outline  and 
mould  of  her  figure  were  beginning  to  make  her  cele 
brated.  Already  people  about  town — at  the  play,  in  the 
park,  on  avenue  and  street,  in  hotels  and  restaurants, 
were  beginning  to  recognise  her,  follow  her  with  ap 
proving  or  hostile  eyes,  turn  their  heads  to  watch  her. 

Theatrical  agents  wrote  her,  making  attractive  of 
fers  for  an  engagement  where  showgirls  were  the  orna 
mental  caryatids  which  upheld  the  three  tottering 
unities  along  Broadway.  She  also  had  chances  to  wear 
very  wonderful  model  gowns  for  next  season  at  the 

167 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Countess  of  Severn's  new  dressmaking  drawing-rooms 
whither  all  snobdom  crowded  and  shoved  to  get  near 
the  trade-marked  coronet,  and  where  bewildering  young 
ladies  strolled  haughtily  about  all  day  long,  displaying 
to  agitated  Gotham  the  most  startling  gowns  in  the 
extravagant  metropolis. 

She  had  other  opportunities,  too — such  as  meeting 
several  varieties  of  fashionable  men  of  various  ages — 
gentlemen  prominently  identified  with  the  arts  and  sci 
ences — the  art  of  killing  time  and  the  science  of  enjoy 
ing  the  assassination.  And  some  of  these  assorted  gen 
tlemen  maintained  extensive  stables  and  drove  tandems, 
spikes,  and  fours;  and  some  were  celebrated  for  their 
yachts,  or  motors,  or  prima-donnas,  or  business  acumen, 
or  charitable  extravagances.  .  .  .  Yes,  truly,  Valerie 
West  was  beginning  to  have  many  opportunities  in  this 
generously  philanthropic  world.  And  she  was  making 
a  great  deal  of  money — for  her — but  nothing  like  what 
she  might  very  easily  have  made.  And  she  knew  it, 
young  as  she  was.  For  it  does  not  take  very  long  to 
learn  about  such  things  when  a  girl  is  attempting  to 
earn  her  living  in  this  altruistic  world. 

"  She'll  spread  her  wings  and  go  one  of  these  days," 
observed  Archie  Allaire  to  Rita  Tevis,  who  was  posing 
as  Psyche  for  one  of  his  clever,  thinly  brushed,  high- 
keyed  studies  very  much  after  the  manner  and  palette 
of  Chaplin  when  they  resembled  neither  Chartrain  nor 
Zier,  nor  any  other  artist  temporarily  in  vogue.  For 
he  was  an  adaptable  man,  facile,  adroit,  a  master  navi 
gator  in  trimming  sail  to  the  fitful  breeze  of  popular 
favour.  And  his  work  was  in  great  demand. 

"  She'll  be  decorating  the  tonneau  of  some  big  tour 
ing  car  with  crested  panels — and  there'll  be  a  bunch 

168 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


of  orchids  in  the  crystal  holder,  and  a  Chow  dog  beside 
her,  defying  the  traffic  squad — 

"  No,  she  won't !  "  snapped  Rita.  "  She's  as  likely 
to  do  that  as  she  is  to  dine  with  you  again." 

Allaire,  caught  off  his  guard,  scowled  with  un 
feigned  annoyance.  Repeated  essays  to  ingratiate  him 
self  with  Valerie  had  finally  resulted  in  a  dinner  at  the 
Astor,  and  in  her  firm,  polite,  but  uncompromising 
declination  of  all  future  invitations  from  him,  either  to 
sit  for  him  or  beside  him  under  any  circumstances  and 
any  conditions  whatever. 

"  So  that's  your  opinion,  is  it,  Rita  ?  "  he  inquired, 
keeping  his  light-blue  eyes  and  his  thin  wet  brush 
busy  on  his  canvas.  "  Well,  sister,  take  it  from  muh, 
she  thinks  she's  the  big  noise  in  the  Great  White 
Alley ;  but  they're  giving  her  the  giggle  behind  her 
back." 

"  That  giggle  may  be  directed  at  you,  Archie," 
observed  Rita,  scornfully ;  "  you're  usually  behind  her 
back,  you  know,  hoisting  the  C.  Q.  D." 

"  Which  is  all  right,  too,"  he  said,  apparently  un 
disturbed  ;  "  but  when  she  goes  to  Atlantic  City  with 
Querida " 

"  That  is  an  utter  falsehood,"  retorted  Rita, 
calmly.  "  Whoever  told  you  that  she  went  there  with 
Querida,  lied." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  I  know  so !     She  went  alone." 

"  Then  we'll  let  it  go  at  that,"  said  Allaire  so  un 
pleasantly  that  Rita  took  fiery  offence. 

"  There  is  not  a  man  living  who  has  the  right  to 
look  sideways  at  Valerie  West !  Everybody  knows  it — • 
Neville,  Querida,  Sam,  John  Burleson— even  you  know 

169 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


it!  If  a  man  or  two  has  touched  her  finger  tips — her 
waist — her  lips,  perhaps — no  man  has  obtained  more 
than  that  of  her — dared  more  than  that !  I  have  never 
heard  that  any  man  has  ever  even  ventured  to  offend 
her  ears,  unless — "  she  added  with  malice,  "  that  is  the 
reason  that  she  accepts  no  more  invitations  from  you 
and  your  intimate  friends." 

Allaire  managed  to  smile  and  continue  to  paint. 
But  later  he  found  use  for  his  palette  knife — which 
was  unusual  in  a  painter  as  clever  as  he  and  whose 
pride  was  in  his  technical  skill  with  materials  used 
and  applied  premier  coup. 

With  October  came  the  opening  of  many  theatres; 
a  premature  gaiety  animated  the  hotels  and  restaurants ; 
winter  fabrics,  hats,  furs,  gowns,  appeared  in  shops; 
the  glittering  windows  along  Fifth  Avenue  reflected  more 
limousines  and  fewer  touring  bodies  passing.  Later  top 
hats  reappeared  on  street  and  in  lobby;  and  when  the 
Opera  reopened,  Long  Island,  Jersey,  and  Westchester 
were  already  beginning  to  pour  in  cityward,  followed 
later  by  Newport,  Lenox,  and  Bar  Harbour.  The  po 
lice  put  on  their  new  winter  uniforms ;  furs  were  dis 
played  in  carriages,  automobiles,  and  theatres ;  the 
beauty  of  the  florist's  windows  became  mellower,  richer, 
and  more  splendid;  the  jewellery  in  the  restaurants  more 
gorgeous.  Gotham  was  beginning  to  be  its  own  again, 
jacked  up  by  the  Horse  Show,  the  New  Theatre,  and 
the  Opera;  and  by  that  energetic  Advertising  Trust 
Company  with  its  branches,  dependencies,  and  mergers, 
which  is  called  Society,  and  which  is  a  matter  of  eternal 
vigilance  and  desperate  business  instead  of  the  relaxa 
tion  of  cultivated  security  in  an  accepted  and  acceptable 
order  of  things. 

170 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Among  other  minor  Incidents,  almost  local  in  char 
acter,  the  Academy  and  Society  of  American  Artists 
opened  its  doors.  And  the  exhibition  averaged  as  well 
as  it  ever  will,  as  badly  as  it  ever  had  averaged. 
Allaire  showed  two  portraits  of  fashionable  women,  done, 
this  time,  in  the  manner  of  Zorn,  and  quite  as  clever  on 
the  streaky  surface.  Sam  Ogilvy  proudly  displayed 
another  mermaid — Rita  in  the  tub — and  two  babies 
from  photographs  and  "  chic  " — very  bad ;  but  as  usual 
it  was  very  quickly  marked  sold. 

Annan  had  a  portrait  of  his  sister  Alice,  poorly 
painted  and  even  recognised  by  some  of  her  more  inti 
mate  friends.  Clive  Gail  offered  one  of  his  marines — 
waves  splashing  and  dashing  all  over  the  canvas  so 
realistically  that  women  instinctively  stepped  back  and 
lifted  their  skirts,  and  men  looked  vaguely  around  for 
a  waiter — at  least  Ogilvy  said  so.  As  for  Neville,  he 
had  a  single  study  to  show — a  full  length — just  the 
back  and  head  and  the  soft  contour  of  limbs  melting 
into  a  luminously  sombre  background — a  masterpiece 
in  technical  perfection,  which  was  instantly  purchased 
by  a  wise  and  Western  millionaire,  and  which  left  the 
public  staring  but  unmoved. 

But  it  was  Jose  Querida  who  dominated  the  whole 
show,  flooding  everything  with  the  splendour  of  his 
sunshine  so  that  all  else  in  the  same  room  looked  cold 
or  tawdry  or  washed  out.  His  canvas,  with  its  superbly 
vigorous  drawing,  at  once  became  the  sensation  of  the 
exhibition.  Sunday  supplements  reproduced  it  with  a 
photograph  of  Querida  looking  amiably  at  a  statuette 
of  Venus  which  he  held  in  his  long,  tapering  fingers; 
magazines  tried  to  print  it  in  two  colours,  in  three,  in 
dozens,  and  made  fireworks  of  it  to  Querida's  inwardly 

171 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


suppressed  agony,  and  their  own  satisfaction.  Serious 
young  men  wrote  "  appreciations  "  about  it ;  serious 
young  women  published  instructive  discourses  concern 
ing  it  in  the  daily  papers.  Somebody  in  the  valuable 
columns  of  the  Tribune  inquired  whether  Querida's 
painting  was  meant  to  be  symbolical ;  somebody  in  the 
Nation  said  yes ;  somebody  in  the  Sun  said  no ;  some 
body  in  something  or  other  explained  its  psychological 
subtleties ;  somebody  in  something  else  screamed, 
"bosh!" 

Meanwhile  the  discussion  was  a  god-send  to  fash 
ionable  diners-out  and  to  those  cultivated  leaders  of  so 
ciety  who  prefer  to  talk  through  the  Opera  and  phil 
harmonic. 

In  what  the  educated  daily  press  calls  the  "  world 
of  art  "  and  the  "  realm  of  literature,"  Querida's  picture 
was  discussed  intelligently  and  otherwise,  but  it  was  dis 
cussed — from  the  squalid  table  d'hote,  where  unmani- 
cured  genius  punctures  the  air  with  patois  and  punches 
holes  in  it  with  frenzied  thumbs,  to  quiet,  cultivated 
homes,  where  community  of  taste  restricts  the  calling 
lists — from  the  noisy  studio,  where  pianos  and  girls 
make  evenings  lively,  to  the  austere  bare  boards  or  the 
velvet  elegance  of  studios  where  authority  and  precious- 
ness,  and  occasionally  attainment,  reside,  and  sometimes 
do  not. 

Cognatis  maculis  similis  fcra. 

Neville  was  busy,  but  not  too  busy  to  go  about  in 
the  evening  among  his  own  kind,  and  among  other  kinds, 
too.  This  unexpected  resurgance  within  him  of  the  so 
cial  instinct,  he  made  no  attempt  to  account  for  to 
others  or  to  himself.  He  had  developed  a  mental  and 

172 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


physical  restlessness,  which  was  not  yet  entirely  nervous, 
but  it  had  become  sufficiently  itching  to  stir  him  out  of 
fatigue  when  the  long  day's  work  had  ended — enough 
to  drive  him  out  of  the  studio — at  first  merely  to  roam 
about  at  hazard  through  the  livelier  sections  of  the 
city.  But  to  the  lonely,  there  is  no  lonelier  place  than  a 
lively  one ;  and  the  false  brilliancy  and  gaiety  drove  him 
back  upon  himself  and  into  his  lair  again,  where  for  a 
while  he  remained  meditating  amid  the  sombre  menace  of 
looming  canvases  and  the  heavy  futility  of  dull-gold 
hangings,  and  the  mischievous  malice  of  starlight  splin 
tering  into  a  million  incandescent  rainbow  rays  through 
the  sheet  of  glass  above. 

Out  of  this,  after  some  days,  he  emerged,  set  in  mo 
tion  by  his  increasing  restlessness.  And  it  shoved  him 
in  the  direction  of  his  kind  once  more — and  in  the  direc 
tion  of  other  kinds. 

He  dined  at  his  sister's  in  Seventy-ninth  Street  near 
Madison  Avenue;  he  dined  with  the  Grandcourts  on 
Fifth  Avenue;  he  decorated  a  few  dances,  embellished 
an  opera  box  now  and  then,  went  to  Lakewood  and 
Tuxedo  for  week  ends,  rode  for  a  few  days  at  Hot 
Springs,  frequented  his  clubs,  frequented  Stephanie,  fre 
quented  Maxim's. 

And  all  the  while  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  he  were 
temporarily  enduring  something  which  required  pa 
tience,  which  could  not  last  forever,  which  must  one  day 
end  in  a  great  change,  a  complete  transformation  for 
himself,  of  himself,  of  the  world  around  him  and  of  his 
aim  and  hope  and  purpose  in  living.  At  moments,  too, 
an  odd  sensation  of  expectancy  came  over  him — the  sense 
of  waiting,  of  suppressed  excitement.  And  he  could  not 
account  for  it. 

173 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Perhaps  it  concerned  the  finishing  of  his  great  mural 
frieze  for  the  Court  House — that  is,  the  completion  of 
the  section  begun  in  September.  For,  when  it  was  done, 
and  cleared  out  of  his  studio,  and  had  been  set  in  its 
place,  framed  by  the  rose  and  gold  of  marble  and 
ormolu,  a  heavy  reaction  of  relief  set  in,  leaving  him 
listless  and  indifferent  at  first,  then  idle,  disinclined  to 
begin  the  companion  frieze ;  then  again  restless,  discon 
tented,  tired,  and  lonely  in  that  strange  solitude  which 
seemed  to  be  growing  wider  and  wider  around  him  in 
rings  of  silence.  Men  praised  and  lauded  the  great 
frieze ;  and  he  strove  to  respond,  to  believe  them — to  be 
lieve  in  the  work  and  in  himself — strove  to  shake  off  the 
terrible  discouragement  invading  him,  lurking  always 
near  to  reach  out  and  touch  him,  slinking  at  his  heels 
from  street  to  street,  from  room  to  room,  skulking 
always  just  beyond  the  shadows  that  his  reading  lamp 
cast. 

Without  envy,  yet  with  profound  sadness,  he  stood 
and  faced  the  splendour  of  Querida's  canvas.  He  had 
gone  to  Querida  and  taken  him  by  both  of  his  thin, 
olive-skinned  hands,  and  had  praised  the  work  with  a 
heart  clean  of  anything  unworthy.  And  Querida  had 
laughed  and  displayed  his  handsome  teeth,  and  returned 
compliment  for  compliment.  .  .  .  And  Neville  had  seen, 
on  his  dresser,  a  photograph  of  Valerie,  signed  in  her 
long,  girlish,  angular  hand — "  To  Jose  from  Valerie  " ; 
and  the  date  was  of  mid-winter. 

Christmas  came;  he  sent  Valerie  some  furs  and  a 
note,  and,  before  he  went  to  Aiken  to  spend  the  holidays 
with  his  father  and  mother,  he  tried  to  get  her  on  the 
telephone — tried  half  a  dozen  times.  But  she  was  either 
busy  with  business  or  with  pleasure  somewhere  or  other 

174 


OiA  I  li 


"Querida  had  laughed  .  .  .  and  returned  compliment  for  compliment." 

— and  he  never  found  her  at  home;  so  he  went  South 
without  hearing  from  her. 

After  he  arrived,  it  is  true,  he  received  from  her  a 
cigarette  case  and  a  very  gay  and  frank  Christmas 
greeting — happy  and  untroubled  apparently,  brimming 

175 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


with  gossip,  inconsequences,  and  nonsense.  In  it  she 
thanked  him  for  his  letter  and  his  gift,  hoped  he  was 
happy  with  his  parents,  and  expressed  an  almost  con 
ventional  desire  to  see  him  on  his  return. 

Then  his  parents  came  back  to  New  York  with  him. 
Two  days  before  New  Year's  Day  they  went  to  Spindrift 
House  instead  of  sailing  for  Egypt,  where  for  some 
years  now  they  had  been  accustomed  to  spend  the  winters 
shivering  at  Shepherd's.  And  he  and  his  sister  and 
brother-in-law  and  Stephanie  dined  together  that  even 
ing.  But  the  plans  they  made  to  include  him  for  a 
New  Year's  Eve  home  party  remained  uncertain  as  far 
as  he  was  concerned.  Pie  was  vague — could  not  promise 
— he  himself  knew  not  why.  And  they  ceased  to  press 
him. 

"  You're  growing  thin  and  white,"  said  Lily.  "  I 
believe  you're  getting  painter's  colic." 

"  House  painters  acquire  that,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  I'm  not  a  member  of  their  union  yet." 

"  Well,  you  must  use  as  much  white  lead  as  they  do 
on  those  enormous  canvases  of  yours.  Why  don't  you 
start  on  a  trip  around  the  world,  Louis?  " 

He  laughed. 

Later,  after  he  had  taken  his  leave,  the  suggestion 
reoccurred  to  him.  He  took  enough  trouble  to  think 
about  it  the  next  morning ;  sent  out  his  servant  to  amass 
a  number  of  folders  advertising  world  girdling  tours  of 
various  attractions,  read  them  while  lunching,  and  sat 
and  pondered.  Why  not?  It  might  help.  Because  he 
certainly  began  to  need  help.  He  had  gone  quite  stale. 
Querida  was  right ;  he  ought  to  lie  fallow.  No  ground 
could  yield  eternally  without  rest.  Querida  was  clever 
enough  to  know  that ;  and  he  had  been  stupid  enough  to 

176 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


ignore  it — even  disbelieve  it,  contemptuous  of  precept 
and  proverb  and  wise  saw,  buoyed  above  apprehension 
by  consciousness  and  faith  in  his  own  inexhaustible 
energy. 

And,  after  all,  something  really  seemed  to  have  hap 
pened  to  him.  He  almost  admitted  it  now  for  the  first 
time — considered  the  proposition  silently,  wearily,  with 
out  any  definite  idea  of  analysing  it,  without  even  the 
desire  to  solve  it. 

Somehow,  at  some  time,  he  had  lost  pleasure  in  his 
powers,  faith  in  his  capacity,  desire  for  the  future. 
What  had  satisfied  him  yesterday,  to-day  became  con 
temptible.  Farther  than  ever,  farther  than  the  farthest 
stars  receded  the  phantoms  of  the  great  Masters.  What 
they  believed  and  endured  and  wrought  and  achieved 
seemed  now  not  only  hopelessly  beyond  any  comprehen 
sion  or  attainment  of  his,  but  even  beyond  hope  of 
humble  discipleship. 

And  always,  horribly,  like  an  obsession,  was  creep 
ing  over  him  in  these  days  the  conviction  of  some  sim 
ilarity  between  his  work  and  the  thin,  clear,  clever  brush- 
work  of  Allaire — with  all  its  mastery  of  ways  and 
means,  all  its  triumph  over  technical  difficulties,  all  its 
tricks  and  subtle  appeals,  and  its  falsity,  and  its 
glamour. 

Reflection,  retrospection  sickened  him.  It  was  snow 
ing  and  growing  late  when  he  wrote  to  a  steamship 
agent  making  inquiries  and  asking  for  plans  of  state 
rooms. 

Then  he  had  tea,  alone  there  in  the  early  winter 
dusk,  with  the  firelight  playing  over  Gladys  who  sat 
in  the  full  heat  of  the  blaze,  licking  her  only  kitten,  em 
bracing  its  neck  writh  one  maternal  paw. 

177 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


He  dressed  about  six,  intending  to  dine  somewhere 
alone  that  New  Year's  Eve.  The  somewhere,  as  usual, 
ended  at  the  Syrinx  Club — or  rather  at  the  snowy  portal 
— for  there  he  collided  with  Samuel  Strathclyde  Ogilvy 
and  Henry  Knickerbocker  Annan,  and  was  seized  and 
compelled  to  perform  with  them  on  the  snowy  sidewalk, 
a  kind  of  round  dance  resembling  a  pow-wow,  which  ut 
terly  scandalised  the  perfectly  respectable  club  porter, 
and  immensely  interested  the  chauffeurs  of  a  row  of  taxi- 
cabs  in  waiting. 

"  Come !  Let  up !  This  isn't  the  most  dignified  per 
formance  I  ever  assisted  at,"  he  protested. 

"Who  said  it  was  dignified?"  demanded  Ogilvy. 
"  We're  not  hunting  for  dignity.  Harry  and  I  came 
here  in  a  hurry  to  find  an  undignified  substitute  for  John 
Burleson.  You're  the  man !  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Annan,  "  you're  the  sort  of  cheer 
ful  ass  we  need  in  our  business.  Come  on!  Some  of 
these  taxis  belong  to  us " 

"  Where  do  you  want  me  to  go,  you  crazy " 

"  Now  be  nice,  Louis,"  he  said,  soothingly ;  "  play 
pretty  and  don't  kick  and  scream.  Burleson  was  going 
with  us  to  see  the  old  year  out  at  the  Cafe  Gigo- 
lette,  but  he's  got  laryngitis  or  some  similar  species  of 
pip " 

"  I  don't  want  to  go " 

"  You've  got  to,  dear  friend.  We've  engaged  a  table 
for  six " 

"Six!" 

"  Sure,  dearie.  In  the  college  of  experience  co 
education  is  a  necessary  evil.  Step  lively,  son !  " 

"Who  is  going?" 

"  One  dream,  one  vision,  one  hallucination — "  he 
178 


"'Me  lord,  the  taxi  waits!'' 

wafted  three  kisses  from  his  gloved  finger  tips  in  the 
general  direction  of  Broadway — "  and  you,  and  Samuel, 
and  I.  Me  lord,  the  taxi  waits !  " 

"  Now,  Harry,  I'm  not  feeling  particularly  cheer 
ful " 

"  But  you  will,  dear  friend ;  you  will  soon  be  feeling 
the  Fifty-seven  Varieties  of  cheerfulness.  All  kinds  of 

179 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


society  will  be  at  the  Gigolette — good,  bad,  fashionable, 
semi-fashionable — all  imbued  with  the  intellectual  and 
commendable  curiosity  to  see  somebody  '  start  some 
thing.'  And,"  he  added,  modestly,  "  Sam  and  I  are 
going  to  see  what  can  be  accomplished " 

"  No ;  I  won't  go " 

But  they  fell  upon  him  and  fairly  slid  him  into  a 
taxi,  beckoning  two  other  similar  vehicles  to  follow  in 
procession. 

"  Now,  dearie,"  simpered  Sam,  "  don't  you  feel 
better?  " 

Neville  laughed  and  smoothed  out  the  nap  of  his 
top  hat. 

They  made  three  stops  at  three  imposing  looking 
apartment  hotels  between  Sixth  Avenue  and  Broadway — 
The  Daisy,  The  Gwendolyn,  The  Sans  Souci — where 
negro  porters  and  hallboys  were  gorgeously  conspicu 
ous  and  the  clerk  at  the  desk  seemed  to  be  unusually 
popular  with  the  guests.  And  after  every  stop  there 
ensued  a  shifting  of  passengers  in  the  taxicabs,  until 
Neville  found  himself  occupying  the  rear  taxi  in  the 
procession  accompanied  by  a  lively  young  lady  in  pink 
silk  and  swansdown — a  piquant  face  and  pretty  figure, 
white  and  smooth  and  inclined  to  a  plumpness  so  far 
successfully  contended  with  by  her  corset  maker. 

"  I  have  on  my  very  oldest  gown,"  she  explained 
with  violet-eyed  animation,  patting  her  freshly  dressed 
hair  with  two  smooth  little  hands  loaded  with  diamonds 
and  turquoises.  "  I'm  afraid  somebody  will  start  some 
thing  and  then  they'll  throw  confetti,  and  somebody  will 
think  it's  funny  to  aim  champagne  corks  at  you.  So 
I've  come  prepared,"  she  added,  looking  up  at  him  with 
a  challenge  to  deny  her  beauty.  "  By  the  way,"  she 

180 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


said,  "  I'm  Mazie  Gray.  Nobody  had  the  civility  to 
tell  you,  did  they?" 

"  They  said  something.  .  .  .  I'm  Louis  Neville,"  he 
replied,  smiling. 

"  Are  you  ?  "  she  laughed.  "  Well,  you  may  take  it 
from  mother  that  you're  as  cute  as  your  name,  Louis. 
Who  was  it  they  had  all  framed  up  to  give  me  my  cues  ? 
That  big  Burleson  gentleman  who'd  starve  if  he  had  to 
laugh  for  a  living,  wasn't  it  ?  Can  you  laugh,  child  ?  " 

"  A  few,  Mazie.  It  is  my  only  Sunday  accomplish 
ment." 

"  Dearie,"  she  added,  correcting  him. 

"  It  is  my  only  accomplishment,  dearie." 

"  That  will  be  about  all — for  a  beginning !  "  She 
laughed  as  the  cab  stopped  at  the  red  awning  and 
Neville  aided  her  to  descend. 

Steps,  vestibules,  stairs,  cloak-rooms  were  crowded 
with  jolly,  clamouring  throngs  flourishing  horns, 
canes,  rattles,  and  dusters  decked  with  brilliant  ribbons. 
Already  some  bore  marks  of  premature  encounters  with 
confetti  and  cocktails. 

Waiters  and  head-waiters  went  gliding  and  scurry 
ing  about,  assigning  guests  to  tables  reserved  month* 
in  advance.  Pages  in  flame-coloured  and  gold  uniforms 
lifted  the  silken  rope  that  stretched  its  barrier  between 
the  impatient  crowd  and  the  tables;  managers  verified 
offered  credentials  and  escorted  laughing  parties  to 
spaces  bespoken. 

Two  orchestras,  relieving  each  other,  fiddled  and 
tooted  continuously;  great  mounds  of  flowers,  smilax, 
ropes  of  evergreens,  multi-tinted  electroliers  made  the 
vast  salon  gay  and  filled  it  with  perfume. 

Even  in  the  beginning  it  was  lively  enough  though 
7  181 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


not  yet  boisterous  in  the  city  where  all  New  York  was 
dining  and  preparing  for  eventualities ;  the  eventual 
ities  being  that  noisy  mid-winter  madness  which  seizes 
the  metropolis  when  the  birth  of  the  New  Year  is 
imminent. 

It  is  a  strange  evolution,  a  strange  condition,  a  state 
of  mind  not  to  be  logically  accounted  for.  It  is  not 
accurate  to  say  that  the  nicer  people,  the  better  sort, 
hold  aloof;  because  some  of  them  do  not.  And  in  this 
uproarious  carnival  the  better  sort  are  as  likely  to  mis 
behave  as  are  the  worse;  and  they  have  done  it,  and 
do  it,  and  probably  will  continue  to  say  and  do  and  tol 
erate  and  permit  inanities  in  themselves  and  in  others 
that,  at  other  moments,  they  would  regard  as  insanities 
• — and  rightly. 

Around  every  table,  rosily  illuminated,  laughter 
rang.  White  throats  and  shoulders  glimmered,  jewels 
sparkled,  the  clear  crystalline  shock  of  glasses  touch 
ing  glasses  rang  continual  accompaniment  to  the  music 
and  the  breezy  confusion  of  voices. 

Here  and  there,  in  premonition  of  the  eventual,  the 
comet-like  passage  of  streaming  confetti  was  blocked 
by  bare  arms  upflung  to  shield  laughing  faces;  arms 
that  flashed  with  splendid  jewels  on  wrist  and  finger. 

Neville,  coolly  surveying  the  room,  recognised  many, 
responding  to  recognition  with  a  laugh,  a  gesture,  or 
with  glass  uplifted. 

*  Stop  making  goo-goos,"  cried  Mazie,  dropping 
her  hand  over  his  wrist.  "  Listen,  and  I'll  be  imprudent 
enough  to  tell  you  the  very  latest  toast —  She  leaned 
nearer,  opening  her  fan  with  a  daring  laugh ;  but 
Ogilvy  wouldn't  have  it. 


THE    COMMON  LAW 


"  This  is  no  time  for  single  sentiment !  "  he  shouted. 
"  Everybody  should  be  perfectly  plural  to-night  — 
everything  should  be  plural,  multiple,  diffuse,  all  em- 


Mazie  Gray. 

bracing,  general,  polydipsiatic,  polygynyatic,  polyan- 
dryatic !  " 

"What's  polyandryatic?"  demanded  Mazie  in 
astonishment. 

"  It  means  everybody  is  everybody  else's !  I'm  yours 
and  you're  mine  but  everybody  else  owns  us  and  we 
own  everybody ! " 

183 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"Hurrah!  "shouted  Annan.  "Hear — hear!  Where 
is  the  fair  and  total  stranger  who  is  going  to  steal 
the  first  kiss  from  me?  Somebody  count  three  before 
the  rush  begins " 

A  ball  of  roses  struck  him  squarely  on  the  mouth; 
a  furious  shower  of  confetti  followed.  For  a  few  mo 
ments  the  volleys  became  general,  then  the  wild  inter 
change  of  civilities  subsided,  and  the  cries  of  laughter 
died  away  and  were  lost  in  the  loud  animated  hum 
which  never  ceased  under  the  gay  uproar  of  the  music. 

When  they  played  the  barcarole  from  Contes  d'Hoff- 
man  everybody  sang  it  and  rose  to  their  feet  cheer 
ing  the  beautiful  prima  donna  with  whom  the  song 
was  so  closely  identified,  and  who  made  one  of  a  gay 
group  at  a  flower-smothered  table. 

And  she  rose  and  laughingly  acknowledged  the 
plaudits ;  but  they  wouldn't  let  her  alone  until  she 
mounted  her  chair  and  sang  it  in  solo  for  them;  and 
then  the  vast  salon  went  wild. 

Neville,  surveying  the  vicinity,  recognised  people 
he  never  dreamed  would  have  appeared  in  such  a  place 
— here  a  celebrated  architect  and  his  pretty  wife  enter 
taining  a  jolly  party,  there  a  well-known  lawyer  and 
somebody  else's  pretty  wife;  and  there  were  men  well 
known  at  fashionable  clubs  and  women  known  in  fash 
ionable  sets,  and  men  and  women  characteristic  of 
quieter  sets,  plainly  a  little  uncertain  and  surprised  to 
find  themselves  there.  And  he  recognised  assorted 
lights  of  the  "  profession,"  masculine  and  feminine ; 
and  one  or  two  beautiful  meteors  that  were  falling 
athwart  the  underworld,  leaving  fading  trails  of  in 
candescence  in  their  jewelled  wake. 

The  noise  began  to  stun  him ;  he  laughed  and  talked 
184 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


and  sang  with  the  others,  distinguishing  neither  his 
own  voice  nor  the  replies.  For  the  tumult  grew  as  the 
hour  advanced  toward  midnight,  gathering  steadily  in 
strength,  in  license,  in  abandon. 

And  now,  as  the  minute  hands  on  the  big  gilded 
clock  twitched  nearer  and  nearer  to  midnight,  the  racket 
became  terrific,  swelling,  roaring  into  an  infernal  din 
as  the  raucous  blast  of  horns  increased  in  the  streets 
outside  and  the  whistles  began  to  sound  over  the  city 
from  Westchester  to  the  Bay,  from  Long  Island  to  the 
Palisades. 

Sheer  noise,  stupefying,  abominable,  incredible,  un 
ending,  greeted  the  birth  of  the  New  Year;  they  were 
dancing  in  circles,  singing,  cheering  amid  the  crash 
of  glasses.  Table-cloths,  silken  gowns,  flowers  were 
crushed  and  trampled  under  foot;  flushed  faces  looked 
into  strange  faces,  laughing;  eyes  strange  to  other 
eyes  smiled ;  strange  hands  exchanged  clasps  with  hands 
unknown;  the  whirl  had  become  a  madness. 

And,  suddenly,  in  its  vortex,  Neville  saw  Valerie 
West.  Somebody  had  set  her  on  a  table  amid  the  silver 
and  flowers  and  splintered  crystal.  Her  face  was 
flushed,  eyes  and  mouth  brilliant,  her  gown  almost  torn 
from  her  left  shoulder  and  fluttering  around  the  lovely 
arm  in  wisps  and  rags  of  silk  and  lace.  Querida  sup 
ported  her  there. 

They  pelted  her  with  flowers  and  confetti,  and  she 
threw  roses  back  at  everybody,  snatching  her  ammuni 
tion  from  a  great  basket  which  Querida  held  for  her. 

Ogilvy  and  Annan  saw  her  and  opened  fire  on  her 
with  a  cheer,  and  she  recognised  them  and  replied  with 
volleys  of  rosebuds — was  in  the  act  of  hurling  her  last 
blossom — caught  sight  of  Neville  where  he  stood  with 

185 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Mazie  on  a  chair  behind  him,  her  arms  resting  on  his 
shoulders.     And  the  last  rose  dropped  from  her  hand. 

Querida  turned,  too,  inquiringly;  recognised  Ne 
ville;  and  for  a  second  his  olive  cheeks  reddened;  then 
with  a  gay  laugh  he  passed  his  arm  around  Valerie  and, 
coolly  facing  the  bombardment  of  confetti  and  flowers, 
swung  her  from  the  table  to  the  floor. 

A  furious  little  battle  of  flowers  began  at  his  own 
table,  but  Neville  was  already  lost  in  the  throng,  mak 
ing  his  way  toward  the  door,  pelted,  shouldered,  blocked, 
tormented — but,  indifferent,  unresponsive,  forcing  his 
path  to  the  outer  air. 

Once  or  twice  voices  called  his  name,  but  he  scarcely 
heard  them.  Then  a  hand  caught  at  his ;  and  a  breath 
less  voice  whispered: 

"  Are  you  going?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  dully. 

"Why?" 

**  I've  had  enough — of  the  New  Year." 

Breathing  fast,  the  colour  in  her  face  coming  and 
going,  she  stood,  vivid  lips  parted,  regarding  him. 
Then,  in  a  low  voice : 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  to  be  here,  Louis." 

"  Nor  I.     It  was  an  accident." 

"  Who  was  the — girl " 

"What  girl?" 

"  She  stood  behind  you  with  her  hands  on  your 
shoulders." 

"  How  the  devil  do  I  know,"  he  said,  savagely — 
**  her  name's  Mazie — something — or — other." 

"Did  you  bring  her?" 

w  Yes.  Did  Querida  bring  you?  "  he  asked,  in 
solently. 

186 


"  And  the  last  ro 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


She  looked  at  him  in  a  confused,  bewildered  way — 
laid  her  hand  on  his  sleeve  with  an  impulse  as  though 
he  had  been  about  to  strike  her. 

He  no  longer  knew  what  he  was  doing  in  the  sudden 
surge  of  unreasoning  anger  that  possessed  him ;  he  shook 
her  hand  from  his  sleeve  and  turned. 

And  the  next  moment,  on  the  stairs,  she  was  beside 
him  again,  slender,  pale,  close  to  his  shoulder,  descend 
ing  the  great  staircase  beside  him,  one  white-gloved 
hand  resting  lightly  within  his  arm. 

Neither  spoke.  At  the  cloak-room  she  turned  and 
looked  at  him — stood  a  moment  slowly  tearing  the 
orchids  from  her  breast  and  dropping  the  crushed  petals 
underfoot. 

A  maid  brought  her  fur  coat — his  gift ;  a  page 
brought  his  own  coat  and  hat. 

"Will  you  call  a  cab?" 

He  turned  and  spoke  to  the  porter.  Then  they 
waited,  side  by  side,  in  silence. 

When  the  taxicab  arrived  he  turned  to  give  the 
porter  her  address,  but  she  had  forestalled  him.  And 
he  entered  the  narrow  vehicle;  and  they  sat  through 
the  snowy  journey  in  utter  silence  until  the  cab  drew 
up  at  his  door. 

Then  he  said:  "  Are  you  not  going  home?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

They  descended,  stood  in  the  falling  snow  while  he 
settled  with  the  driver,  then  entered  the  great  build 
ing,  ascended  in  the  elevator,  and  stepped  out  at  his 
door. 

He  found  his  latch-key ;  the  door  swung  slowly  open 
on  darkness. 


CHAPTER    VII 

AN  electric  lamp  was  burning  in  the  hallway;  he 
threw  open  the  connecting  doors  of  the  studio  where 
a  light  gleamed  high  on  the  ceiling,  and  stood  aside 
for  her  to  pass  him. 

She  stepped  across  the  threshold  into  the  subdued 
radiance,  stood  for  a  moment  undecided,  then: 

"  Are  you  coming  in  ?  "  she  asked,  cheerfully,  quite 
aware  of  his  ill-temper.  "  Because  if  you  are,  you  may 
take  off  my  coat  for  me." 

He  crossed  the  threshold  in  silence,  and  divested  her 
of  the  fur  garment  which  was  all  sparkling  with  melt 
ing  snow. 

"Do  let's  enjoy  the  firelight,"  she  said,  turning 
out  the  single  ceiling  lamp ;  "  and  please  find  some  nice, 
big  crackly  logs  for  the  fire,  Kelly! — there's  a  treas 
ure!" 

His  frowning  visage  said :  "  Don't  pretend  that  it's 
all  perfectly  pleasant  between  us  " ;  but  he  turned  with 
out  speaking,  cleared  a  big  arm-chair  of  its  pile  of 
silks,  velvets,  and  antique  weapons,  and  pushed  it  to 
the  edge  of  the  hearth.  Every  movement  he  made,  his 
every  attitude  was  characterised  by  a  sulky  dignity 
which  she  found  rather  funny,  now  that  the  first  in 
explicable  consternation  of  meeting  him  had  subsided. 
And  already  she  was  wondering  just  what  it  was  that 
had  startled  her;  why  she  had  left  the  cafe  with  him; 

192 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


why  Tie  had  left;  why  he  seemed  to  be  vexed  with  her. 
For  her  conscience,  in  regard  to  him,  was  perfectly  clear 
and  serene. 

"  Now  the  logs,  Kelly,  dear,"  she  said,  "  the  kind 
that  catch  fire  in  a  second  and  make  frying-pan  music, 
please." 

He  laid  three  or  four  logs  of  yellow  birch  across  the 
bed  of  coals.  The  blaze  caught  swiftly,  mounting  in 
a  broad  sheet  of  yellow  flame,  making  their  faces  brill 
iant  in  the  darkness ;  and  the  tall  shadows  leaped  across 
floor  and  wall  and  towered,  wavering  above  them  from 
the  ruddy  ceiling. 

"Kelly!" 

"What?" 

"  I  wish  you  a  Happy  New  Year." 

"  Thank  you.     I  wish  you  the  same." 

"  Come  over  here  and  curl  up  on  the  hearth  and 
drop  your  head  back  on  my  knees,  and  tell  me  what  is 
the  trouble — you  sulky  boy !  " 

He  did  not  appear  to  hear  her. 

"  Please  ? — "  with  a  slight  rising  inflection. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  pretending  ?  "  he  said,  shortly. 

"  Pretending ! "  she  repeated,  mimicking  him  de 
lightedly.  Then  with  a  clear,  frank  laugh :  "  Oh,  you 
great,  big  infant!  The  idea  of  you  being  the  famous 
painter  Louis  Neville!  I  wish  there  was  a  nursery 
here.  I'd  place  you  in  it  and  let  you  pout ! " 

"  That's  more  pretence,"  he  said,  "  and  you  know 
it." 

"  What  silly  things  you  do  say,  Louis !  As  though 
people  could  find  life  endurable  if  they  did  not  pretend. 
Of  course  I'm  pretending.  And  if  a  girl  pretends  hard 
enough  it  sometimes  comes  true." 

193 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"What  comes  true?" 

"Ah! — you  ask  me  too  much.  ...  Well,  for  ex 
ample,  if  I  pretend  I  don't  mind  your  ill-temper  it  may 
come  true  that  you  will  be  amiable  to  me  before  I  go 
home." 

There  was  no  smile  from  him,  no  response.  The 
warmth  of  the  burning  logs  deepened  the  colour  in  her 
cold  checks.  Snow  crystals  on  her  dark  hair  melted  into 
iris-rayed  drops.  She  stretched  her  arms  to  the  fire, 
and  her  eyes  fell  on  Gladys  and  her  kitten,  slumbering, 
softly  embraced. 

"  Oh,  do  look,  Kelly !  How  perfectly  sweet  and 
cunning !  Gladys  has  her  front  paws  right  around 
the  kitten's  neck." 

Impulsively  she  knelt  down,  burying  her  face  in 
the  fluffy  heap;  the  kitten  partly  opened  its  bluish 
eyes ;  the  mother-cat  stretched  her  legs,  yawned,  glanced 
up,  and  began  to  lick  the  kitten,  purring  loudly. 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  girl  caressed  the  drowsy 
cats,  then,  rising,  she  resumed  her  seat,  sinking  back 
deeply  into  the  arm-chair  and  casting  a  sidelong  and 
uncertain  glance  at  Neville. 

The  flames  burned  steadily,  noiselessly,  now;  noth 
ing  else  stirred  in  the  studio;  there  was  no  sound  save 
the  ghostly  whisper  of  driving  snow  blotting  the  glass 
roof  above. 

Her  gaze  wandered  over  the  silken  disorder  in  the 
studio,  arrested  here  and  there  as  the  firelight  gleamed 
on  bits  of  armour — on  polished  corselet  and  helmet  and 
the  tall  hilts  of  swords.  Then  she  looked  upward  where 
the  high  canvas  loomed  a  vast  expanse  of  gray,  un 
touched  except  for  the  brushed-in  outlines  of  men  in 
shadowy  processional. 


THE   COMMON  L~AW 


She  watched  Neville,  who  had  begun  to  prowl  about 
in  the  disorder  of  the  place,  stepping  over  trailing 
velvets,  avoiding  manikins  armed  cap-a-pie,  moving 
restlessly,  aimlessly.  And  her  eyes  followed  his  in 
decision  with  a  smile  that  gradually  became  perplexed 
and  then  a  little  troubled. 

For  even  in  the  uncertain  firelight  she  was  aware 
of  the  change  in  his  face — of  features  once  boyish 
and  familiar  that  seemed  now  to  have  settled  into  a 
sterner,  darker  mould — a  visage  that  was  too  lean 
for  his  age — a  face  already  haunted  of  shadows;  a 
mature  face — the  face  of  a  man  who  had  known  unhap- 
piness. 

He  had  paused,  now,  head  lifted,  eyes  fixed  on  vast 
canvas  above.  And  for  a  long  while  he  stood  there 
leaning  sideways  against  a  ladder,  apparently  oblivious 
of  her. 

Time  lagged,  halted — then  sped  forward,  slyly  rob 
bing  him  of  minutes  of  which  his  senses  possessed  no 
record.  But  minutes  had  come  and  gone  while  he  stood 
there  thinking,  unconscious  of  the  trick  time  played 
him — for  the  fire  was  already  burning  low  again  and 
the  tall  clock  in  the  shadows  pointed  with  stiff  and 
ancient  hands  to  the  death  of  another  hour  and  the 
birth  of  yet  another;  and  the  old-time  bell  chimed  im 
partially  for  both  with  a  shift  and  slide  of  creaking 
weights  and  wheels. 

He  lifted  his  head  abruptly  and  looked  at  Valerie, 
who  lay  curled  up  in  her  chair,  eyes  closed,  dark  lashes 
resting  on  her  cheeks. 

As  he  passed  her  chair  and  returned  to  place  more 
logs  on  the  fire  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up  at 
him.  The  curve  of  her  mouth  grew  softly  humorous. 

195 


THE   COMMON  L~AW 


"  I'd  much  prefer  my  own  bed,"  she  said,  "  if  this 
is  all  you  have  to  say  to  me." 

"Had  you  anything  to  say  to  me?"  he  asked, 
unsmiling. 

"About  what,  Kelly,  dear?" 

"  God  knows ;  I  don't." 

"  Listen  to  this  very  cross  and  cranky  young  man !  " 
she  exclaimed,  sitting  up  and  winking  her  eyes  in  the 
rushing  brilliancy  of  the  blaze.  "  He  is  neither  a  very 
gracious  host,  nor  a  very  reasonable  one;  nor  yet  par 
ticularly  nice  to  a  girl  who  left  a  perfectly  good  party 
for  an  hour  with  him." 

She  stole  a  glance  at  him,  and  her  gaze  softened: 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  aloud  to  herself,  "  he  is  not 
really  very  cross ;  perhaps  he  is  only  tired — or  in  trou 
ble.  Otherwise  his  voice  and  manners  are  scarcely  par 
donable — even  by  me." 

He  stood  regarding  the  flames  with  narrowing 
gaze  for  a  few  moments,  then,  hands  in  his  pockets, 
walked  over  to  his  chair  once  more  and  dropped 
into  it. 

A  slight  flush  stole  into  her  cheeks;  but  it  went 
as  it  came.  She  rose,  crossed  to  where  he  sat  and  stood 
looking  down  at  him. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  With  me?  "  in  crude  pretence  of  surprise. 

"  Of  course.  I  am  happy  enough.  What  troubles 
you?  " 

"  Absolutely  nothing." 

"  Then — what  troubles  us?  "  she  persisted.  "  What 
has  gone  wrong  between  us,  Kelly,  dear?  Because  we 
mustn't  let  it,  you  know,"  she  added,  slowly,  shaking 
her  head. 

196 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Has  anything  gone  wrong  with  us  ?  "  he  asked, 
sullenly. 

"  Evidently.  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I'm  keeping 
my  composure  and  controlling  my  temper  until  I  find 
out.  You  know  what  that  dreadful  temper  of  mine 
can  be?"  She  added,  smiling:  "Well,  then,  please 
beware  of  it  unless  you  are  ready  to  talk  sensibly.  Are 
you?" 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  me  to  say?  " 

"  Plow  perfectly  horrid  you  can  be !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"J  never  knew  you  could  be  like  this?  Do  you  want 
a  girl  to  go  on  her  knees  to  you?  I  care  enough  for 
our  friendship  to  do  it — but  I  won't !  " 

Her  mood  was  altering : 

"  You're  a  brute,  Kelly,  to  make  me  miserable.  I 
was  having  such  a  good  time  at  the  Gigolette  when  I 
suddenly  saw  you — your  expression — and — I  don't  even 
yet  know  why,  but  every  bit  of  joy  went  out  of  every 
thing  for  me " 

"  /  was  going  out,  too,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  Why 
didn't  you  remain?  Your  gay  spirits  would  have  re 
turned  untroubled  after  my  departure." 

There  was  an  ugly  sound  to  his  laugh  which  checked 
her,  left  her  silent  for  a  moment.  Then: 

"  Did  you  disapprove  of  me  ?  "  she  asked,  curi 
ously.  "Was  that  it?" 

"  No.     You  can  take  care  of  yourself,  I  fancy." 

"  I  have  had  to,"  she  said,  gravely. 

He  was  silent. 

She  added  with  a  light  laugh  not  perfectly  genuine: 

"  I  suppose  I  am  experiencing  with  you  what  all 
mortals  experience  when  they  become  entangled  with 
the  gods." 

197 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"What  is  that?" 

"  Unhappiness.  All  the  others  experienced  it — • 
Proserpine,  Helen,  poor  little  Psyche — every  nice  girl 
who  ever  became  mixed  up  with  the  Olympians  had  a 
bad  half  hour  of  it  sooner  or  later.  And  to-night  the 
great  god  Kelly  has  veiled  his  face  from  me,  and  I'm 
on  my  knees  at  his  altar  sacrificing  every  shred  of  sweet 
temper  to  propitiate  him.  Now,  mighty  and  sulky 
oracle! — what  has  happened  to  displease  you?" 

He  said :  "  If  there  seems  to  be  any  constraint — if 
anything  has  altered  our  pleasant  intimacy,  I  don't 
know  what  it  is  any  more  than  you  do,  Valerie." 

"  Then  there  is  something !  " 

"  I  have  not  said  so." 

"  Well,  then,  /  say  so, "  she  said,  impatiently. 
"  And  I  say,  also,  that  whatever  threatens  our  excellent 
understanding  ought  to  be  hunted  out  and  destroyed* 
Shall  we  do  it  together,  Louis  ?  " 

He  said  nothing. 

"  Come  to  the  fire  and  talk  it  over  like  two  sensible 
people.  Will  you?  And  please  pull  that  sofa  around 
to  the  blaze  for  me.  Thank  you.  This,  Kelly,  is  our 
bed  of  justice." 

She  drew  the  cushions  under  her  head  and  nestled 
down  in  the  full  warmth  of  the  hearth. 

"  Le  lit  de  justice,"  she  repeated,  gaily.  "  Here 
I  preside,  possessing  inquisitorial  power  and  preroga 
tive,  and  exercising  here  to-night  the  high  justice,  the 
middle,  and  the  low.  Now  hale  before  me  those  skulk 
ing  knaves,  Doubt,  Suspicion,  and  Distrust,  and  you 
and  I  will  make  short  work  of  them.  Pull  'em  along 
by  their  ears,  Louis !  This  Court  means  to  sit  all  night 
if  necessary ! " 

198 


"  '  How  perfectly  horrid  you  can  be! '  she  exclaimed." 


She  laughed  merrily,  raised  herself  on  one  arm,  and 
looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes : 
"  Louis ! » 
"What?" 

"Do  you  doubt  me?" 
"Doubt  what?" 

199 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  That  my  friendship  for  you  is  as  warm  as  the 
moment  it  began?  " 

He  said,  unsmiling :  "  People  meet  as  we  met,  be 
come  friends — very  good,  very  close  friends — in  that 
sort  of  friendship  which  is  governed  by  chance  and 
environment.  The  hazard  that  throws  two  people  into 
each  other's  company  is  the  same  hazard  that  separates 
them.  It  is  not  significant  either  way.  ...  I  liked 
you — missed  you.  .  .  .  Our  companionship  had  been 
pleasant." 

"  Very,"  she  said,  quietly. 

He  nodded :  "  Then  chance  became  busy ;  your 
duties  led  you  elsewhere — mine  set  me  adrift  in  channels 
once  familiar " 

"  Is  that  all  you  see  in  our  estrangement  ?  " 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"  Estrangement,"  she  repeated,  tranquilly.  "  That 
is  the  real  word  for  it.  Because  the  cIJ  intimacy  is 
gone.  And  now  we  both  admit  it." 

"  We  have  had  no  opportunity  to  be  together 
this— 

"  We  once  made  opportunities." 

"  We  have  had  no  time " 

"  We  halted  time,  hastened  it,  dictated  to  it,  ruled 
it — once." 

"  Then  explain  it  otherwise  if  you  can." 

"  I  am  trying  to — with  God's  help.  Will  you  aid 
me,  too  ?  " 

Her  sudden  seriousness  and  emotion  startled  him. 

"  Louis,  if  cur  estrangement  is  important  enough 
for  us  to  notice  at  all,  it  is  important  enough  to  analyse, 
isn't  it?" 

"  I  have  analysed  the  reasons " 

£00 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"Truthfully?" 

"  I  think  so — as  far  as  I  have  gone " 

"  Let  us  go  farther,  then — to  the  end." 

"  But  there  is  no  particular  significance " 

"Isn't  there?" 

"  I  don't  know.  After  all,  why  did  you  leave  that 
cafe?  Why  did  I?  Why  are  we  together,  now — 
here  in  your  studio,  and  utterly  miserable  at  one  o'clock 
of  the  New  Year's  morning?  For  you  and  I  are  un 
happy  and  ill  at  ease;  and  you  and  I  are  talking  at 
cross  purposes,  groping,  evading,  fencing  with  words. 
If  there  is  nothing  significant  in  the  friendship  we  gave 
each  other  from  the  hour  we  met — it  is  not  worth  the 
self-deception  you  are  content  with." 

"  Self-deception !  "  he  repeated,  flushing  up. 

"  Yes.  Because  you  do  care  more  for  me  than 
what  you  have  said  about  our  friendship  indicates.  .  .  . 
And  I  care  more  for  your  regard  than  you  seem  willing 
to  recognise " 

"  I  am  very  glad  to " 

"  Listen,  Kelly.  Can't  we  be  honest  with  ourselves 
and  with  each  other?  Because — our  being  here,  now 
— my  leaving  that  place  in  the  way  I  did — surprises 
me.  I  want  to  find  out  why  there  has  been  confusion, 
constraint,  somewhere — there  is  something  to  clear  up 
between  us — I  have  felt  that,  vaguely,  at  moments ; 
now  I  know  it.  Let  us  try  to  find  out  what  it  is,  what 
is  steadily  undermining  our  friendship." 

"  Nothing,  Valerie,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I  am  as 
fond  of  you  as  ever.  Only  you  have  found  time  for 
other  friendships.  Your  life  has  become  more  inter 
esting,  fuller,  happier " 

"  Not  happier.  I  realise  that,  now,  as  you  say  it." 
201 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


She  glanced  around  her ;  swiftly  her  dark  eyes  passed 
over  things  familiar.  "  I  was  happier  here  than  I 
have  ever  been  in  all  my  life,"  she  said.  "  I  love  this 
room — and  everything  in  it.  You  know  I  do,  Louis. 
But  I  couldn't  very  well  come  here  when  you  were 
using  all  those  models.  If  you  think  that  I  have 
neglected  you,  it  is  a  silly  and  unfair  thing  to  think. 
If  I  did  neglect  you  I  couldn't  help  it.  And  you  didn't 
seem  to  care." 

He  shrugged  and  looked  up  at  the  outlined  men's 
figures  partly  covering  the  canvas  above  them.  Her 
gaze  followed  his,  then  again  she  raised  herself  on  one 
elbow  and  looked  around  her,  searching  with  quick  eyes 
among  the  shadows. 

"Where  is  my  portrait?" 

"  Behind   the   tapestry." 

"Have  you  abandoned  it?" 

"I   don't  know." 

Her  smile  became  tremulous :  "  Are  you  going  to 
abandon  the  original,  too  ?  " 

"I  never  possessed  very  much  of  you,  did  I?"  he 
said,  sulkily;  and  looked  up  at  her  quick  exclamation 
of  anger  and  surprise. 

"What  do  you  mean?  You  had  all  of  me  worth 
having —  '  there  came  a  quick  catch  in  her  throat — 
"  you  had  all  there  is  to  me — confidence  in  you,  gratitude 
for  your  friendship,  deep,  happy  response  to  your  every 
mood — my  unquestioning  love  and  esteem 

"  Your — love?  "  he  repeated,  with  an  unpleasant 
laugh. 

"  What  else  do  you  call  it?  "  she  demanded,  fiercely. 
"  Is  there  a  name  less  hackneyed  for  it?  If  there  is, 
teach  it  to  me.  Yet — if  ever  a  girl  truly  loved  a  man, 

202 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


I  have  loved  you.  And  I  do  love  you,  dearly,  honestly, 
cleanly,  without  other  excuse  than  that,  until  to-night, 
you  have  been  sweet  to  me  and  made  me  happier 
and  better  than  I  have  ever  been." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  confused,  deeply  moved,  sud 
denly  ashamed  of  his  own  inexplicable  attitude  that 
seemed  to  be  driving  him  into  a  bitterness  that  had  no 
reason. 

"  Valerie,"  he  began,  but  she  interrupted  him : 

"  I  ask  you,  Kelly,  to  look  back  with  me  over  our 
brief  and  happy  companionship — over  the  hours  to 
gether,  over  all  you  have  done  for  me " 

"  Have  you  done  less  for  me?  " 

"I?     What  have  I  done?" 

"  You  say  you  have  given  me — love." 

"  I  have — with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  And,  now 
that  I  think  of  it,  I  have  given  you  more — I  have  given 
you  all  that  goes  with  love — an  unselfish  admiration; 
a  quick  sympathy  in  your  perplexities ;  quiet  solicitude 
in  your  silences,  in  your  aloof  and  troubled  moments." 
She  leaned  nearer,  a  brighter  flush  on  either  cheek: 

"  Louis,  I  have  given  you  more  than  that ;  I  gave 
you  my  bodily  self  for  your  work — gave  it  to  you  first 
of  all — came  first  of  all  to  you — came  as  a  novice, 
ignorant,  frightened — and  what  you  did  for  me  then — 
what  you  were  to  me  at  that  time — I  can  never,  never 
forget.  And  that  is  why  I  overlook  your  injustice  to 
me  now ! " 

She  sat  up  on  the  sofa's  edge  balanced  forward 
between  her  arms,  fingers  nervously  working  at  the 
silken  edges  of  the  upholstery. 

"  You  ought  never  to  have  doubted  my  interest 
and  affection,"  she  said.  "  In  my  heart  I  have  not 

203 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


doubted  yours — never — except  to-night.  And  it  makes 
me  perfectly  wretched." 

"  I  did  not  mean " 

"  Yes,  you  did !  There  was  something  about  you 
— your  expression — when  you  saw  me  throwing  roses 
at  everybody — that  hurt  me — and  you  meant  to." 

"  With  Querida's  arm  around  you,  did  you  expect 
me  to  smile?  "  he  asked,  savagely. 

"Was  it  that?  "  she  demanded,  astonished. 

"What?" 

"  Querida's  arm — "  She  hesitated,  gazing  straight 
into  his  eyes  in  utter  amazement. 

"It  wasn't  that?"  she  repeated.  "Was  it?  .  .  . 
You  never  cared  about  such  petty  things,  did  you? 
Did  you?  Do  you  care?  Because  I  never  dreamed 
that  you  cared.  .  .  .  What  has  a  little  imprudence — 
a  little  silly  mischief — to  do  with  our  friendship?  Has 
it  anything  to  do  with  it?  You've  never  said  anything 
— and  .  .  .  I've  flirted — I've  been  spoons  on  men — you 
knew  it.  Besides,  I've  nearly  always  told  you.  I've  told 
you  without  thinking  it  could  possibly  matter  to  you 
— to  you  of  all  men !  What  do  you  care  what  I  do  ? — 
as  long  as  I  am  to  you  what  I  have  always  been  ?  " 

"  I— don't— care." 

"Of  course  not.  How  can  you?"  She  leaned 
nearer,  dark  and  curious  gaze  searching  his.  Then, 
with  a  nervous  laugh  voicing  the  impossible — "  You 
are  not  in  love  with  me — that  way.  Are  you  ?  "  she 
asked,  scarcely  realising  what  she  was  saying. 

"  No,"  he  said,  forcing  a  smile.  "  Are  you  with 
me?  " 

She  flushed  scarlet: 

"  Kelly,  I  never  thought  —  dreamed  —  hoped  —  " 
204 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Her  voice  caught  in  her  throat  a  moment ;  "  I — such 
a  matter  has  not  occurred  to  me."  She  looked  at  him 
partly  dismayed,  partly  confused,  unable  now  to  under 
stand  him — or  even  herself. 

"  You  know — that  kind  of  love — "  she  began — 
"  real  love,  never  has  happened  to  me.  You  didn't  think 
that,  did  you? — because — just  because  I  did  flirt  a 
little  with  you?  It  didn't  mean  anything  serious — 
anything  of  that  kind.  Kelly,  dear,  have  you  mistaken 
me?  Is  that  what  annoys  you?  Were  you  afraid  I 
was  silly  enough,  mad  enough  to — to  really  think  of 
you — in  that  way  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  I  was  sure  you  couldn't  believe  it  of  me. 
See  how  perfectly  frank  and  honest  I  have  been  with 
you.  Why,  you  never  were  sentimental — and  a  girl 
isn't  unless  a  man  begins  it!  You  never  kissed  me — 
except  last  summer  when  you  were  going  away — and 
both  of  our  hearts  were  pretty  full—- " 

"  Wait,"  he  said,  suddenly  exasperated,  "  are  you 
trying  to  make  me  understand  that  you  haven't  the 
slightest  real  emotion  concerning  me — concerning  me  as 
a  man — like  other  men  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  still  confused  and  distressed,  still 
determined  he  should  not  misunderstand  her: 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean ;  truly  I  don't.  I'm 
only  trying  to  make  you  believe  that  I  am  not  guilty 
of  thinking — wishing — of  pretending  that  in  our  frank 
companionship  there  lay  concealed  anything  of — of 
deeper  significance " 

"  Suppose — it  were  true?  "  he  said. 

"  But  it  is  not  true !  "  she  retorted  angrily — and 
looked  up,  caught  his  gaze,  and  her  breath  failed  her. 

205 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Suppose  it  were  true — for  example,"  he  repeated. 
"  Suppose  you  did  find  that  you  or  I  were  capable  of 
— deeper " 

"  Louis !  Louis  !  Do  you  realise  what  you  are  say 
ing  to  me?  Do  you  understand  what  you  are  doing  to 
the  old  order  of  things  between  us — to  the  old  confi 
dences,  the  old  content,  the  happiness,  the — the  inno 
cence  of  our  life  together?  Do  you?  Do  you  even 
care?  " 

"Care?    Yes— I  care." 

"  Because,"  she  said,  excitedly,  "  if  it  is  to  be — that 
way  with  you — I — I  can  not  help  you — be  of  use  to  you 
here  in  the  studio  as  I  have  been.  .  .  .  Am  I  taking  you 
too  seriously?  You  do  not  mean  that  you  really  could 
ever  love  me,  or  I  you,  do  you?  You  mean  that 
— that  you  just  want  me  back  again — as  I  was — as 
we  were — perfectly  content  to  be  together.  That  is 
what  you  mean,  isn't  it,  Kelly,  dear?  "  she  asked, 
piteously. 

He  looked  into  her  flushed  and  distressed  face : 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  exactly  what  I  mean,  Va 
lerie — you  dear,  generous,  clear-seeing  girl!  I  just 
wanted  you  back  again;  I  miss  you;  I  am  perfectly 
wretched  without  you,  and  that  is  all  the  trouble.  Will 
you  come  ?  " 

"  I — don't — know.  Why  did  you  say  such  a 
thing?  " 

"  Forgive  me,  dear !  " 

She  slowly  shook  her  head  : 

"  You've  made  me  think  of — things,"  she  said. 
"  You  shouldn't  ever  have  done  it." 

"  Done  what,  Valerie?  " 

"  What  you  did — what  you  said — which  makes  it 
206 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


impossible  for  me  to — to  ever  again  be  what  I  have 
been  to  you — even  pose  for  you — as  I  did " 

"  You  mean  that  you  won't  pose  for  me  any  more?  " 
he  asked,  aghast. 

"  Only — in  costume."  She  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
sofa,  head  averted,  looking  steadily  down  at  the  hearth 
below.  There  was  a  pink  spot  on  either  cheek. 

He  thought  a  moment.  "  Valerie,"  he  said,  "  I  be* 
lieve  we  had  better  finish  what  we  have  only  begun 
to  say." 

"  Is  there — anything  more  ?  "  she  asked,  unsmiling. 

"  Ask  yourself.  Do  you  suppose  things  can  be  left 
this  way  between  us — all  the  happiness  and  the  confi 
dence — and  the  innocence,  as  you  say,  destroyed  ?  " 

"  What  more  is  there  to  say,"  she  demanded,  coldly. 

"  Shall — I — say  it  ?  "  he  stammered. 

She  looked  up,  startled,  scarcely  recognising  the  voice 
as  his — scarcely  now  recognising  his  altered  features. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you ! "  she  exclaimed 
nervously. 

"  Good  God,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "  can't  you  see  I've 
gone  quite  mad  about  you !  " 

"  About — me!  "  she  repeated,  blankly. 

"  About  you — Valerie  West.  Can't  you  see  it? 
Didn't  you  know  it?  Hasn't  it  been  plain  enough  to 
you — even  if  it  hasn't  been  to  me  ?  " 

"  Louis !  Louis !  "  she  cried  in  hurt  astonishment, 
"  what  have  you  said  to  me?  " 

"  That  I'm  mad  about  you,  and  I  am.  And  it's  been 
so — for  months — always — ever  since  the  very  first!  I 
must  have  been  crazy  not  to  realise  it.  I've  been  fool 
enough  not  to  understand  what  has  been  the  matter. 
Now  you  know  the  truth,  Valerie !  "  He  sprang  to  his 

207 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


feet,  took  a  short  turn  or  two  before  the  hearth,  then, 
catching  sight  of  her  face  in  its  colourless  dismay  and 
consternation : 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  care  a  damn  for  me — that 
way !  "  he  said,  with  a  mirthless  laugh. 

"  What !  "  she  whispered,  bewildered  by  his  violence. 
Then :  "  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  in  love  with  me !  " 

"  Utterly,  hopelessly — "  his  voice  broke  and  he  stood 
with  hands  clenched,  unable  to  utter  a  word. 

She  sat  up  very  straight  and  pale,  the  firelight 
gleaming  on  her  neck  and  shoulders.  After  a  moment 
his  voice  came  back  to  his  choked  throat: 

"  I  love  you  better  than  anything  in  the  world,"  he 
said  in  unsteady  tones.  "  And  that  is  what  has  come  be 
tween  us.  Do  you  think  it  is  something  we  had  bet 
ter  hunt  down  and  destroy — this  love  that  has  come 
between  us  ?  " 

"  Is — is  that  true?  "  she  asked  in  the  awed  voice  of 
a  child. 

"  It  seems  to  be,"  he  managed  to  say.  She  slid 
stiffly  to  the  floor  and  stood  leaning  against  the  sofa's 
edge,  looking  at  him  wide-eyed  as  a  schoolgirl. 

"  It  never  occurred  to  you  what  the  real  trouble 
might  be,"  he  asked,  "did  it?" 

She  shook  her  head  mechanically. 

"  Well,  we  know  now.  Your  court  of  inquiry  has 
brought  out  the  truth  after  all." 

She  only  stared  at  him,  fascinated.  No  colour  had 
returned  to  her  cheeks. 

He  began  to  pace  the  hearth  again,  lip  caught  sav 
agely  between  his  teeth. 

"  You  are  no  more  amazed  than  I  am  to  learn  the 
truth,"  he  said.  "  I  never  supposed  it  was  that.  .  .  . 

208 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


And  it's  been  that  from  the  moment  I  laid  eyes  on  you. 
I  know  it  now.  I'm  learning,  you  see — learning  not 
to  lie  to  myself  or  to  you.  .  .  .  Learning  other  things, 
too — God  knows  what — if  this  is  love — this  utter — suf 
fering " 

He  swung  on  his  heel  and  began  to  pace  the  glim 
mering  tiles  toward  her: 

"  Discontent,  apathy,  unhappiness,  loneliness — the 
hidden  ache  which  merely  meant  I  missed  you  when  you 
were  not  here — when  I  was  not  beside  you — all  these  are 
now  explained  before  your  bed  of  justice.  Your  court 
has  heard  the  truth  to-night;  and  you,  Valerie,  are 
armed  with  justice — the  high,  the  middle,  and  the  low." 

Pale,  mute,  she  raised  her  dark  eyes  and  met  his  gaze. 

In  the  throbbing  silence  he  heard  his  heart  heavy 
in  his  breast ;  and  now  she  heard  her  own,  rapid,  terrify 
ing  her,  hurrying  her  she  knew  not  whither.  And  again, 
trembling,  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands. 

"  Valerie,"  he  said,  in  anguish,  "  come  back  to  me. 
I  will  not  ask  you  to  love  me  if  you  cannot.  Only  come 
back.  I — can't — endure  it — without  you." 

There  was  no  response. 

He  stepped  nearer,  touched  her  hands,  drew  them 
from  her  face — revealing  its  pallid  loveliness — pressed 
them  to  his  lips,  to  his  face ;  drew  them  against  his  own 
shoulders — closer,  till  they  fell  limply  around  his  neck. 

She  uttered  a  low  cry :  "  Louis  !  "     Then : 

"  It— it  is  all  over— with  us,"  she  faltered.  "  I— 
had  never  thought  of  you — this  way." 

"  Can  you  think  of  me  this  way,  now?  " 

"  I— can't  help  it." 

"  Dearest — dearest — "  he  stammered,  and  kissed  her 
unresponsive  lips,  her  throat,  her  hair.  She  only  gazed 

209 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


silently  at  the  man  whose  arms  held  her  tightly 
imprisoned. 

Under  the  torn  lace  and  silk  one  bare  shoulder  glim 
mered;  and  he  kissed  it,  touched  the  pale  veins  with 
his  lips,  drew  the  arm  from  his  neck  and  kissed  elbow, 
wrist,  and  palm,  and  every  slender  finger ;  and  still  she 
looked  at  him  as  though  dazed.  A  lassitude,  heavy, 
agreeable  to  endure,  possessed  her.  She  yielded  to  the 
sense  of  fatigue — to  the  confused  sweetness  that  in 
vaded  her ;  every  pulse  in  her  body  beat  its  assent,  every 
breath  consented. 

"  Will  you  try  to  care  for  me,  Valerie  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  will." 

"  With  all  your  heart?  "  he  asked,  trembling. 

"  I  do  already." 

"  Will  you  give  yourself  to  me  ?  " 

There  was  a  second's  hesitation ;  then  with  a  sudden 
movement  she  dropped  her  face  on  his  shoulder.  After 
a  moment  her  voice  came,  very  small,  smothered : 

"  What  did  you  mean,  Louis  ?  " 

"  By  what — my  darling  ?  " 

"By — my  giving  myself — to  you?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  want  you  always,"  he  said  in  a 
happy,  excited  voice  that  thrilled  her.  But  she  looked 
up  at  him,  still  unenlightened. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand,"  she  said — "  but — "  and 
her  voice  fell  so  low  he  could  scarcely  hear  it — "  I  am 
— not  afraid — to  love  you." 

"  Afraid ! "  He  stood  silent  a  moment,  then : 
"  What  did  you  think  I  meant,  Valerie?  I  want  you  to 
marry  me !  " 

She  flushed  and  laid  her  cheek  against  his  shoulder, 
striving  to  think  amid  the  excited  disorder  of  her  mind, 

210 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


the  delicious  bewilderment  of  her  senses — strove  to  keep 
clear  one  paramount  thought  from  the  heavenly  confu 
sion  that  was  invading  her,  carrying  her  away,  sweep 
ing  her  into  paradise — struggled  to  keep  that  thought 
intact,  uninfluenced,  and  cling  to  it  through  everything 
that  threatened  to  overwhelm  her. 

Her  slim  hands  resting  in  his,  her  flushed  face  on 
his  breast,  his  words  ringing  in  her  ears,  she  strove 
hard,  hard !  to  steady  herself.  Because  already  she 
knew  what  her  decision  must  be — what  her  love  for  him 
had  always  meant  in  the  days  when  that  love  had  been 
as  innocent  as  friendship.  And  even  now  there  was  little 
in  it  except  innocence ;  little  yet  of  passion.  It  was 
still  only  a  confused,  heavenly  surprise,  unvexed,  and, 
alas !  unterrified.  The  involuntary  glimpse  of  any  fu 
ture  for  it  or  for  her  left  her  gaze  dreamy,  curious,  but 
unalarmed.  The  future  he  had  offered  her  she  would 
never  accept;  no  other  future  frightened  her. 

"Louis?" 

"  Dearest,"  he  whispered,  his  lips  to  hers. 

"  It  is  sweet  of  you,  it  is  perfectly  dear  of  you  to 
wish  me  to  be  your — wife.  But — let  us  decide  such 
questions  later " 

"  Valerie !    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  I  don't  love  you,"  she  said, 
tremulously.  "  I  believe  you  scarcely  understand  how 
truly  I  do  love  you.  .  .  .  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have 
always  been  in  love  with  you  without  knowing  it.  You 
are  not  the  only  fool,"  she  said,  with  a  confused  little 
laugh. 

"  You  darling !  " 

She  smiled  again  uncertainly  and  shook  her  head: 

"  I  truly  believe  I  have  always  been  in  love  with  you. 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


.  .  .  Now  that  I  look  back  and  consider,  I  am  sure  of  it." 
She  lifted  her  pretty  head  and  gazed  at  him,  then  with 
a  gay  little  laugh  of  sheer  happiness  almost  defiant: 
"  You  see  I  am  not  afraid  to  love  you,"  she  said. 

"Afraid?  Why  should  you  be?"  he  repeated, 
watching  her  expression. 

"  Because — I  am  not  going  to  marry  you,"  she  an 
nounced,  gaily. 

He  stared  at  her,  stunned. 

"  Listen,  you  funny  boy,"  she  added,  framing  his 
face  with  her  hands  and  smiling  confidently  into  his 
troubled  eyes :  "  I  am  not  afraid  to  love  you  because 
I  never  was  afraid  to  face  the  inevitable.  And  the  in 
evitable  confronts  me  now.  And  I  know  it.  But  I  will 
not  marry  you,  Louis.  It  is  good  of  you,  dear  of  you 
to  ask  it.  But  it  is  too  utterly  unwise.  And  I  will  not." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,"  she  said,  frankly,  "  I  love  you  better 
than  I  do  myself."  She  forced  another  laugh,  adding: 
"  Unlike  the  gods,  whom  I  love  I  do  not  destroy." 

"  That  is  a  queer  answer,  dear — 

"  Is  it?  Because  I  say  I  love  you  better  than  I  do 
myself?  Why,  Louis,  all  the  history  of  my  friendship 
for  you  has  been  only  that.  Have  you  ever  seen  any 
thing  selfish  in  my  affection  for  you?" 

"  Of  course  not,  but " 

"  Well,  then !  There  isn't  one  atom  of  it  in  my  love 
for  you,  either.  And  I  love  you  dearly — dearly !  But 
I'm  not  selfish  enough  to  marry  you.  Don't  scowl  and 
try  to  persuade  me,  Louis,  I've  a  perfectly  healthy  mind 
of  my  own,  and  you  know  it — and  it's  absolutely  clear 
on  that  subject.  You  must  be  satisfied  with  what  I  offer 
— every  bit  of  love  that  is  in  me — "  She  hesitated,  level 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


eyed  and  self-possessed,  considering  him  with  the  calm 
gaze  of  a  young  goddess: 

"  Dear,"  she  went  on,  slowly,  "  let  us  end  this  mar 
riage  question  once  and  for  all.  You  can't  take  me  out 
of  my  world  into  yours  without  suffering  for  it.  Be 
cause  your  world  is  full  of  women  of  your  own  kind — 
mothers,  sisters,  relatives,  friends.  .  .  .  And  all  your 
loyalty,  all  your  tact,  all  their  tact  and  philosophy,  too, 
could  not  ease  one  moment  in  life  for  you  if  I  were 
unwise  enough  to  go  with  you  into  that  world  and  let 
you  try  to  force  them  to  accept  me." 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  began,  excitedly,  "  that  they  must 

accept " 

"  Hush !  "  she  smiled,  placing  her  hand  gently  across 
his  lips ;  "  with  all  your  man's  experience  you  are  only 
a  man ;  but  I  If  now  how  it  is  with  women.  I  have  no- 
illusions,  Louis.  Even  by  your  side,  and  with  the  well- 
meant  kindness  of  your  family  to  me,  you  would  suffer  ; 
and  I  have  not  the  courage  to  let  you — even  for  love's 
sake." 

"  You  are  entirely  mistaken — "  he  broke  out ;  but 
she  silenced  him  with  a  pretty  gesture,  intimate,  appeal 
ing,  a  little  proud. 

"  No,  I  am  not  mistaken,  nor  am  I  likely  to  deceive 
myself  that  any  woman  of  your  world  could  ever  con 
sider  me  of  it — or  could  ever  forgive  you  for  taking  me 
there.  And  that  means  spoiling  life  for  you.  And  I 
will  not!" 

"  Then  they  can  eliminate  me,  also !  "  he  said,  im 
patiently. 

"  What  logic !  When  I  have  tried  so  hard  to  make 
you  understand  that  I  will  not  accept  any  sacrifice 
from  you ! " 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  It  is  no  sacrifice  for  me  to  give  up  such  a " 

"  You  say  very  foolish  and  very  sweet  things  to  me, 
Louis,  but  I  could  not  love  you  enough  to  make  up 
to  you  your  unhappiness  at  seeing  me  in  your  world 
and  not  a  part  of  it.  Ah,  the  living  ghosts  of  that 
world,  Louis !  Yet  /  could  endure  it  for  myself — a 
woman  can  endure  anything  when  she  loves ;  and  find 
happiness,  too — if  only  the  man  she  loves  is  happy. 
But,  for  a  man,  the  woman  is  never  entirely  sufficient. 
My  position  in  your  world  would  anger  you,  humiliate 
you,  finally  embitter  you.  And  I  could  not  live  if  sor 
row  came  to  you  through  me." 

"  You  are  bringing  sorrow  on  me  with  every 
word " 

"  No,  dear.  It  hurts  for  a  moment.  Then  wisdom 
will  heal  it.  You  do  not  believe  what  I  say.  But  you 
must  believe  this,  that  through  me  you  shall  never  know 
real  unhappiness  if  I  can  prevent  it." 

"  And  I  say  to  you,  Valerie,  that  I  want  you  for 
my  wife.  And  if  my  family  and  my  friends  hesitate  to 
receive  you,  it  means  severing  my  relations  with  them 
until  they  come  to  their  senses " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  will  not  do  to  your  life, 
Louis!  Can't  you  understand?  Is  your  mother  less 
dear  to  you  than  was  mine  to  me?  I  will  not  break 
your  heart !  I  will  not  humiliate  either  you  or  her ;  I 
will  not  ask  her  to  endure — or  any  of  your  family — or 
one  man  or  woman  in  that  world  where  you  belong.  .  .  . 
I  am  too  proud — and  too  merciful  to  you !  " 

"  I  am  my  own  master !  "  he  broke  out,  angrily 

"  I  am  my  own  mistress — and  incidentally  yours," 
she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"Valerie!" 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Am  I  not?  "  she  asked,  quietly. 

"  How  can  you  say  such  a  thing,  child !  " 

"  Because  it  is  true— or  will  be.  Won't  it?  "  She 
lifted  her  clear  eyes  to  his,  unshrinking — deep  brown 
wells  of  truth  untroubled  by  the  shallows  of  sham  and 
pretence. 

His  face  burned  a  deep  red;  she  confronted  him, 
slender,  calm  eyed,  composed :  "  I  am  not  the  kind  of 
woman  who  loves  twice.  I  love  you  so  dearly  that  I 
will  not  marry  you.  That  is  settled.  I  love  you  so 
deeply  that  I  can  be  happy  with  you  unmarried. 
And  if  this  is  true,  is  it  not  better  for  me  to 
tell  you?  I  ask  nothing  except  love ;  I  give  all  I  have — • 
myself." 

She  dropped  her  arms,  palms  outward,  gazing  se 
renely  at  him ;  then  blushed  vividly  as  he  caught  her  to 
him  in  a  close  embrace,  her  delicate,  full  lips  crushed 
to  his. 

"  Dearest — dearest,"  he  whispered,  "  you  will  change 
your  ideas  when  you  understand  me  better " 

"  I  can  love  you  no  more  than  I  do.  Could  I  love 
you  more  if  I  were  your  wife?  " 

"  Yes,  you  wilful,  silly  child !  " 

She  laughed,  her  lips  still  touching  his.  "  I  don't 
believe  it,  Louis.  I  know  I  couldn't.  Besides,  there  is 
no  use  thinking  about  it." 

"  Valerie,  your  logic  and  your  ethics  are  terribly 
twisted " 

"  Perhaps.  All  I  know  is  that  I  love  you.  I'd  rather 
talk  of  that " 

"  Than  talk  <zl  marrying  me !  " 

"  Y«s,  dear." 

"  But  you'd  make  me  so  happy,  so  proud " 

215 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  You  darling !  to  say  so.  Think  so  always,  Louis, 
because  I  promise  to  make  you  happy,  anyway— 

He  had  encircled  her  waist  with  one  arm,  and  they 
were  slowly  pacing  the  floor  before  the  hearth,  she  with 
her  charming  young  head  bent,  eyes  downcast,  meas 
uring  her  steps  to  his. 

She  said,  thoughtfully :  "  I  have  my  own  ideas  con 
cerning  life.  One  of  them  is  to  go  through  it  without 
giving  pain  to  others.  To  me,  the  only  real  wicked 
ness  is  the  wilful  infliction  of  unhappiness.  That  covers 
all  guilt.  .  .  .  Other  matters  seem  so  trivial  in  com 
parison — I  mean  the  forms  and  observances — the  for 
malism  of  sect  and  creed.  .  .  .  To  me  they  mean  noth 
ing — these  petty  laws  designed  to  govern  those  who 
are  willing  to  endure  them.  So  I  ignore  them,"  she 
concluded,  smilingly;  and  touched  her  lips  to  his 
hand. 

"  Do  you  include  the  marriage  law  ?  "  he  asked, 
curiously. 

"  In  our  case,  yes.  ...  I  don't  think  it  would  do 
for  everybody  to  ignore  it." 

"  You  think  we  may,  safely  ?  " 

"Don't  you,  Louis?"  she  asked,  flushing.  "It 
leaves  you  free  in  your  own  world." 

"  How  would  it  leave  you?  " 

She  looked  up,  smiling  adorably  at  his  thought  of 
her: 

"  Free  as  I  am  now,  dearest  of  men — free  to  be  with 
you  when  you  wish  for  me,  free  to  relieve  you  of  myself 
when  you  need  that  relief,  free  to  come  and  go  and  earn 
my  living  as  independently  as  you  gain  yours.  It 
would  leave  me  absolutely  tranquil  in  body  and  mind. 
«  .  ."  She  laid  her  flushed  face  against  his.  "  Only 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


my  heart  would  remain  fettered.  And  that  is  now  in 
evitable." 

He  kissed  her  and  drew  her  closer : 

"  You  are  so  very,  very  wrong,  dear.  The  girl  who 
gives  herself  without  benefit  of  clergy  walks  the  earth 
with  her  lover  in  heavier  chains  than  ever  were  forged 
at  any  earthly  altar." 

She  bent  her  head  thoughtfully ;  they  paced  the  floor 
for  a  while  in  silence. 

Presently  she  looked  up :  "  You  once  said  that  love 
comes  unasked  and  goes  unbidden.  Do  vows  at  an  altar 
help  matters?  Is  divorce  more  decent  because  lawful? 
Is  love  more  decent  when  it  has  been  officially  and  cler 
ically  catalogued?  " 

"  It  is  safer." 

"For  whom?" 

"  For  the  community." 

"  Perhaps."  She  considered  as  she  timed  her  slow 
pace  to  his: 

"  But,  Louis,  I  can't  marry  you  and  I  love  you ! 
What  am  I  to  do  ?  Live  out  life  without  you  ?  Let  you 
live  out  life  without  me?  When  my  loving  you  would 
not  harm  you  or  me?  When  I  love  you  dearly — more 
dearly,  more  deeply  every  minute?  When  life  itself  is 
— is  beginning  to  be  nothing  in  this  world  except  you? 
What  are  we  to  do?" 

And,  as  he  made  no  answer: 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  hesitating  a  little,  "  I  am  per 
fectly  unconscious  of  any  guilt  in  loving  you.  I  am 
glad  I  love  you.  I  wish  to  be  part  of  you  before 
I  die.  I  wish  it  more  than  anything  in  the  world! 
How  can  an  unselfish  girl  who  loves  you  harm  you 
or  herself  or  the  world  if  she  gives  herself  to  you 
8  217 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


— without  asking  benefit  of  clergy  and  the  bureau  of 
licenses  ?  " 

Standing  before  the  fire,  her  head  resting  against 
his  shoulder,  they  watched  the  fading  embers  for  a  while 
in  silence.  Then,  irresistibly  drawn  by  the  same  in> 
pulse,  they  turned  toward  one  another,  trembling: 

"  I'll  marry  you  that  way — if  it's  the  only  way," 
he  said. 

"  It  is  the — only  way." 

She  laid  a  soft  hand  in  his;  he  bent  and  kissed  it, 
then  touched  her  mouth  with  his  lips. 

"  Do  you  give  yourself  to  me,  Valerie  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  From  this  moment  ?  "  he  whispered. 

Her  face  paled.  She  stood  resting  her  cheek  on 
his  shoulder,  eyes  distrait  thinking.  Then,  in  a  voice 
so  low  and  tremulous  he  scarce  could  understand  : 

"  Yes,  now,91  she  said,  "  I — give — myself." 

He  drew  her  closer ;  she  relaxed  in  his  embrace ;  her 
face,  white  as  a  flower,  upturned  to  his,  her  dark  eyes 
looking  blindly  into  his. 

There  was  no  sound  save  the  feathery  rush  of  snow 
against  the  panes — the  fall  of  an  ember  amid  whitening 
ashes — a  sigh — silence. 

Twice  logs  fell  from  the  andirons,  showering  the 
chimney  with  sparks ;  presently  a  little  flame  broke  out 
amid  the  debris,  lighting  up  the  studio  with  a  fitful 
radiance;  and  the  single  shadow  cast  by  them  wavered 
high  on  wall  and  ceiling. 

His  arms  were  around  her;  his  lips  rested  on  her 
face  where  it  lay  against  his  shoulder.  The  ruddy 
resurgence  of  firelight  stole  under  the  lashes  on  her 
cheeks,  and  her  eyes  slowly  unclosed. 

218 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Standing  there  gathered  close  in  his  embrace,  she 
turned  her  head  and  watched  the  flame  growing  brighter 
among  the  cinders.  Thought,  which  had  ceased  when 
her  lips  met  his  in  the  first  quick  throb  of  passion, 
stirred  vaguely,  and  awoke.  And,  far  within  her,  some 
where  in  confused  obscurity,  her  half-stunned  senses 
began  groping  again  toward  reason. 

"  Louis ! " 

"Dearest  one!" 

"  I  ought  to  go.  Will  you  take  me  home?  It  is 
morning — do  you  realise  it  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  head,  cleared  her  eyes  with  one  slender 
wrist,  pushing  back  the  disordered  hair.  Then  gently 
disengaging  herself  from  his  arms,  and  still  busy  with 
her  tumbled  hair,  she  looked  up  at  the  dial  of  the 
ancient  clock  which  glimmered  red  in  the  firelight. 

"  Morning — and  a  strange  new  year,"  she  said 
aloud,  to  herself.  She  moved  nearer  to  the  clock, 
watching  the  stiff,  jerking  revolution  of  the  second 
hand  around  its  lesser  dial. 

Hearing  him  come  forward  behind  her,  she  dropped 
her  head  back  against  him  without  turning. 

"  Do  you  see  what  Time  is  doing  to  us  ? — Time,  the 
incurable,  killing  us  by  seconds,  Louis — eating  steadily 
into  the  New  Year,  devouring  it  hour  by  hour — the 
hours  that  we  thought  belonged  to  us."  She  added, 
musingly :  "  I  wonder  how  many  hours  of  the  future 
remain  for  us." 

He  answered  in  a  low  voice: 

"  That  is  for  you  to  decide." 

"  I  know  it,"  she  murmured.  She  lifted  one  ringless 
hand  and  still  without  looking  at  him,  pressed  the  third 
finger  backward  against  his  lips. 

219 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  So  much  for  the  betrothal,"  she  said.  "  My  ring- 
finger  is  consecrated." 

"  Will  you  not  wear  any  ring?  "  he  asked. 

"No.     Your  kiss  is  enough." 

"  Yet— if  we  are— are " 

"Engaged?"  she  suggested,  calmly.  "Yes,  call 
it  that.  I  really  am  engaged  to  give  myself  to  you — 
€X  cathedra — extra  muros." 

"  When  ?  "  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"  I  don't  know.  ...  I  must  think.  A  girl  who  is 
going  to  break  all  conventions  ought  to  have  time  to 
consider  the  consequences —  She  smiled,  faintly — "  a 
little  time  to  prepare  herself  for  the — the  great  change. 
...  I  think  we  ought  to  remain  engaged  for  a  while 
— don't  you  ?  " 

"  Dearest !  "  he  broke  out,  pleadingly,  "  the  old  way 
is  the  best  way  !  I  cannot  bear  to  take  you — to  have  you 
promise  yourself  without  formality  or  sanction— 

"  But  I  have  already  consented,  Louis.  Volenti  non 
ft  injuria"  she  added  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Voluntas  non 
potest  cogi — dearest — dearest  of  lovers  !  I  love  you 
dearly  for  what  you  offer  me — I  adore  you  for  it.  And 
— how  long  do  you  think  you  ought  to  wait  for  me?  " 

She  disengaged  herself  from  his  arm,  walked  slowly 
toward  the  tall  old  clock,  turned  her  back  to  it  and 
faced  him  with  clear  level  eyes.  After  a  moment  she 
laughed  lightly: 

"  Did  ever  an  engaged  gentleman  face  the  prospect 
of  impending  happiness  with  such  a  long  face  as  this 
suitor  of  mine  is  wearing !  " 

His  voice  broke  in  the  protest  wrung  from  his  lips. 

"  You  must  be  my  wife.  I  tell  you !  For  God's 
sake  marry  me  and  let  the  future  take  care  of  itself ! " 

220 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  You  say  so  many  sweet,  confusing,  and  foolish 
things  to  me,  Louis,  that  while  you  are  saying  them 
I  almost  believe  them.  And  then  that  clear,  pitiless 
reasoning  power  of  mine  awakens  me;  and  I  turn  my 
gaze  inward  and  read  written  on  my  heart  that  irrev 
ocable  law  of  mine,  that  no  unhappiness  shall  ever  come 
to  you  through  me." 

Her  face,  sweetly  serious,  brightened  slowly  to  a. 
smile. 

"  Now  I  am  going  home,  monsieur — home  to  think 
over  my  mad  and  incredible  promise  to  you  .  .  .  and 
I'm  wondering  whether  I'll  wake  up  scared  to  death. 
.  .  .  Daylight  is  a  chilly  shower-bath.  No  doubt  at 
all  that  I'll  be  pretty  well  frightened  over  what  I've 
said  and  done  to-night.  .  .  .  Louis,  dear,  you  simply 
must  take  me  home  this  very  minute !  "  She  came  up 
to  him,  placed  both  hands  on  his  shoulders,  kissed  him 
lightly,  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  humorously  grave : 

"  Some  day,"  she  said,  "  a  big  comet  will  hit  this 
law-ridden,  man-regulated  earth — or  the  earth  will  slip 
a  cog  and  go  wabbling  out  of  its  orbit  into  interstellar 
space  and  side-wipe  another  planet — or  it  will  ulti 
mately  freeze  up  like  the  moon.  And  who  will  care 
then  how  Valerie  West  loved  Louis  Neville? — or  what 
letters  in  a  forgotten  language  spelled  '  wife  '  and  what 
letters  spelled  '  mistress  '  ?  After  all,  I  am  not  afraid 
of  words.  Nor  do  I  fear  what  is  in  my  heart.  God 
reads  it  as  I  stand  here;  and  he  can  see  no  selfishness 
in  it.  So  if  merely  loving  you  all  my  life — and  proving 
it — is  an  evil  thing  to  do,  I  shall  be  punished;  but  I'm 
going  to  do  it  and  find  out  what  celestial  justice  really 
thinks  about  it." 


CHAPTER    VIH 

VALERIE  was  busy — exceedingly  busy  arranging 
matters,  in  view  of  the  great  change  impending. 

She  began  by  balancing  her  check  book,  comparing 
stubs  with  cancelled  checks,  adding  and  verifying  sums 
total,  filing  away  paid  bills  and  paying  the  remainder — 
a  financial  operation  which  did  not  require  much  time, 
but  to  which  she  applied  herself  with  all  the  seriousness 
of  a  wealthy  man  hunting  through  a  check  book  which 
will  not  balance,  for  a  few  pennies  that  ought  to  be  his. 

For  since  she  had  any  accounts  at  all  to  keep,  she 
had  kept  them  with  method  and  determination.  Her 
genius  for  order  was  inherent:  even  when  she  possessed 
nothing  except  the  clothes  she  wore,  she  had  always 
kept  them  in  perfect  condition.  And  now  that  her  pop 
ularity  in  business  gave  her  a  bank  balance  and  per 
mitted  some  of  the  intimate  little  luxuries  that  make 
for  a  woman's  self-respect,  a  perfect  passion  for  order 
and  method  possessed  her. 

The  tiny  bedroom  which  she  inhabited,  and  the  ad 
joining  bathroom,  were  always  immaculate.  Every 
week  she  made  an  inventory  of  her  few  but  pretty  gar 
ments,  added  or  subtracted  from  her  memorandum,  went 
over  her  laundry  list,  noted  and  laid  aside  whatever 
clothing  needed  repairs. 

Once  a  week,  too,  she  inspected  her  hats,  foot-wear, 
furs;  dusted  the  three  rows  of  books,  emptied  and 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


cleaned  the  globe  in  which  a  solitary  goldfish  swam, 
goggling  his  eyes  in  the  sunshine,  and  scrubbed  the 
porcelain  perching  pole  on  which  her  parrot  sat  all  day 
in  the  bathroom  window  making  limited  observations  in 
French,  Spanish,  and  English,  and  splitting  red  peppers 
and  dried  watermelon  seeds  with  his  heavy  curved  beak. 
He  was  a  gorgeous  bird,  with  crimson  and  turquoise 
blue  on  him,  and  a  capacity  for  deviltry  restrained  only 
by  a  silver  anklet  and  chain,  gifts  from  Querida,  as 
was  also  the  parrot. 

So  Valerie,  in  view  of  the  great  change  impending, 
began  to  put  her  earthly  house  in  order — without  any 
particular  reason,  however,  because  the  great  change 
would  not  affect  her  quarters  or  her  living  in  them. 
Nor  could  she  afford  to  permit  it  to  interfere  with  her 
business  career  for  which  perfect  independence  was 
necessary. 

She  had  had  it  out  with  Neville  one  stormy  afternoon 
in  January,  stopping  in  for  tea  after  posing  for  John 
Burleson's  Psyche  fountain  ordered  by  Penrhyn  Car- 
demon.  She  had  demanded  from  Neville  acquiescence 
in  her  perfect  freedom  of  action,  absolute  independence ; 
had  modestly  requested  non-interference  in  her  business 
affairs  and  the  liberty  to  support  herself. 

"  There  is  no  other  way,  Louis,"  she  explained  very 
sweetly.  "  I  do  not  think  I  am  going  to  lose  any  self- 
respect  in  giving  myself  to  you — but  there  would  not 
be  one  shred  of  it  left  to  cover  me  if  I  were  not  as  free 
as  you  are  to  make  the  world  pay  me  fairly  for  what 
I  give  it." 

And,  another  time,  she  had  said  to  him :  "  It  is  bet 
ter  not  to  tell  me  all  about  your  personal,  private,  and 
financial  affairs — better  that  I  do  not  tell  you  about 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


mine.     Is  it  necessary  to  burst  into  financial  and  trivial 
confidences  when  one  is  in  love? 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  that  is  what  spoils  most  mar 
riages.  To  me  there  is  a  certain  respectability  in  reti 
cence  when  a  girl  is  very  much  in  love.  I  would  no 
more  open  my  personal  and  private  archives  in  all  their 


"She  began  by  balancing  her  check  book." 
004, 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


petty  disorder  to  your  inspection  than  I  would  let  you 
see  me  dress — even  if  we  had  been  married  for  hun 
dreds  of  years." 

And  still,  on  another  occasion,  when  he  had  fought 
her  for  hours  in  an  obstinate  determination  to  make  her 
say  she  would  marry  him — and  when,  beaten,  chagrined, 
baffled,  he  had  lost  his  temper,  she  won  him  back  with 
her  child-like  candour  and  self-control. 

"  Your  logic,"  he  said,  "  is  unbaked,  unmature,  un 
fledged.  It's  squab-logic,  I  tell  you,  Valerie;  and  it  is 
not  very  easy  for  me  to  listen  to  it." 

"  I'm  afraid  that  I  am  not  destined  to  be  entirely 
easy  for  you,  dear,  even  with  love  as  the  only  tie  with 
which  to  bind  you.  The  arbitrary  laws  of  a  false  civili 
sation  are  going  to  impose  on  you  what  you  think  are 
duties  and  obligations  to  me  and  to  yourself — until  I 
explain  them  away.  You  must  come  to  me  in  your 
perplexity,  Louis,  and  give  me  a  chance  to  remind  you 
of  the  basic  and  proven  proposition  that  a  girl  is  born 
into  this  world  as  free  as  any  man,  and  as  responsible  to 
herself  and  to  others ;  and  that  her  title  to  her  own  in 
dividuality  and  independence — her  liberty  of  mind,  her 
freedom  to  give  and  accept,  her  capability  of  taking  care 
of  herself,  her  divine  right  of  considering,  re-consider 
ing,  of  meeting  the  world  unafraid — is  what  really  ought 
to  make  her  lovable." 

He  had  answered :  "  What  rotten  books  have  you 
been  reading?  "  And  it  annoyed  her,  particularly  when 
he  had  asked  her  whether  she  expected  to  overturn, 
with  the  squab-logic  of  twenty  years,  the  formalisms  of 
a  civilisation  several  thousand  years  old.  He  had 
added : 

"  The  runways  of  wild  animals  became  Indian  paths ; 
225 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


the  Indian  paths  became  settlers'  roads,  and  the  roads, 
in  time,  city  streets.  But  it  was  the  instinct  of  wild 
creatures  that  surveyed  and  laid  out  the  present  high 
ways  of  our  reasoning  civilisation.  And  I  tell  you,  Va 
lerie,  that  the  old  ways  are  the  best,  for  on  them  is 
founded  every  straight  highway  of  modern  thought  and 
custom." 

She  considered: 

"  Then  there  is  only  one  way  left — to  see  you  no 
more." 

He  had  thought  so,  too,  infuriated  at  the  idea;  and 
they  had  passed  a  very  miserable  and  very  stormy  after 
noon  together,  which  resulted  in  her  crying  silently  on 
the  way  home ;  and  in  a  sleepless  night  for  two ;  and  in 
prolonged  telephone  conversation  at  daybreak.  But  it 
all  ended  with  a  ring  at  his  door-bell,  a  girl  in  furs 
all  flecked  with  snow,  springing  swiftly  into  his  studio ; 
a  moment's  hesitation — then  the  girl  and  her  furs  in 
his  arms,  her  cold  pink  cheeks  against  his  face — a 
brief  moment  of  utter  happiness — for  she  was  on  her 
way  to  business — a  swift,  silent  caress,  then  eyes  search 
ing  eyes  in  silent  promise — in  reluctant  farewell  for  an 
hour  or  two. 

But  it  left  him  to  face  the  problems  of  the  day  with 
a  new  sense  of  helplessness — the  first  confused  sensation 
that  hers  was  the  stronger  nature,  the  dominant  person 
ality — although  he  did  not  definitely  understand  this. 

Because,  how  could  he  understand  it  of  a  young  girl 
so  soft,  so  yielding,  so  sweet,  so  shy  and  silent 
in  the  imminence  of  passion  when  her  consenting  lips 
trembled  and  grew  fragrant  in  half-awakened  response 
to  his. 

How  could  he  believe  it — conscious  of  what  he  had 
226 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


made  of  himself  through  sheer  will  and  persistence? 
How  could  he  credit  it — remembering  what  he  already 
stood  for  in  the  world,  where  he  stood,  how  he  had  ar 
rived  by  the  rigid  road  of  self-denial;  how  he  had 
mounted,  steadily,  undismayed,  unperturbed,  undeterred 
by  the  clamour  of  envy,  of  hostility,  unseduced  by  the 
honey  of  flattery? 

Upright,  calm,  self-confident,  he  had  forged  on 
straight  ahead,  following  nobody — battled  steadily 
along  the  upward  path  until — out  of  the  void,  suddenly 
he  had  come  up  against  a  blank  wall. 

That  wall  which  had  halted,  perplexed,  troubled, 
dismayed,  terrified  him  because  he  was  beginning  to  be 
lieve  it  to  be  the  boundary  which  marked  his  own  limita 
tions,  suddenly  had  become  a  transparent  barrier 
through  which  he  could  see.  And  what  he  saw  on  the 
other  side  was  an  endless  vista  leading  into  infinity. 
But  the  path  was  guarded;  Love  stood  sentinel  there. 
And  that  was  what  he  saw  ahead  of  him  now,  and  he 
knew  that  he  might  pass  on  if  Love  willed  it — and  that 
he  would  never  care  to  pass  on  alone.  But  that  he 
could  not  go  forward,  ignoring  Love,  neither  occurred 
to  him  nor  would  he  have  believed  it  if  it  had.  Yet,  at 
times,  an  indefinable  unease  possessed  him  as  though 
some  occult  struggle  was  impending  for  which  he  was 
unprepared. 

That  struggle  had  already  begun,  but  he  did  not 
know  it. 

On  the  contrary  all  his  latent  strength  and  brilliancy 
had  revived,  exquisitely  virile;  and  the  new  canvas  on 
which  he  began  now  to  work  blossomed  swiftly  into  mag 
nificent  florescence. 

A  superb  riot  of  colour  bewitched  the  entire  com- 
227 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


position;  never  had  his  brushes  swept  with  such  sun- 
tipped  fluency,  never  had  the  fresh  splendour  of  his  hues 
and  tones  approached  so  closely  to  convincing  himself 
in  the  hours  of  fatigue  and  coldly  sober  reaction  from 
the  auto-intoxication  of  his  own  facility. 

That  auto-intoxication  had  always  left  his  mind 
and  his  eye  steady  and  watchful,  although  drugged — 
like  the  calm  judgment  of  the  intoxicated  opportunist 
at  the  steering  wheel  of  a  racing  motor.  And  a  race 
once  run  and  ended,  a  deliberate  consideration  of  results 
usually  justified  the  pleasure  of  the  pace.  , 

Yet  that  mysterious  something  which  some  said  he 
lacked,  had  not  yet  appeared.  That  something,  ac 
cording  to  many,  was  an  elusive  quality  born  of  a  sym 
pathy  for  human  suffering — an  indefinable  and  delicate 
bond  between  the  artist  and  his  world — between  a  master 
who  has  suffered,  and  all  humanity  who  understands. 

The  world  seemed  to  recognise  this  subtle  bond  be 
tween  themselves  and  Querida's  pictures.  Yet  in  the 
pictures  there  was  never  any  sadness.  Had  Querida 
ever  suffered?  Was  it  in  that  olive-skinned,  soft-voiced 
young  man  to  suffer? — a  man  apparently  all  grace 
and  unruffled  surface  and  gentle  charm — a  man  whose 
placid  brow  remained  smooth  and  untroubled  by  any  line 
of  perplexity  or  of  sorrow. 

And  as  Neville  studied  his  own  canvas  coolly,  logic 
ally,  with  an  impersonal  scrutiny  that  almost  amounted 
to  hostility,  he  wondered  what  it  was  in  Querida's  work 
that  still  remained  absent  in  his.  Pie  felt  its  absence 
but  he  could  not  define  what  it  was  that  was  absent, 
could  not  discover  the  nature  of  it.  He  really  began  to 
feel  the  lack  of  it  in  his  work,  but  he  searched  his  canvas 
and  his  own  heart  in  vain  for  any  vacuum  unfilled. 

228 


THE    COMMON  LAW 


Then,  too,  had  he  himself  not  suffered?  What  had 
that  restless,  miserable  winter  meant,  if  it  had  not  meant 
sorrow?  He  had  suffered — blindly  it  is  true  until  the 


"He  stood  before  it,  searching  in  it  for  any  hint  of  that  elusive  and 
mysterious  something" 

truth  of  his  love  for  Valerie  had  suddenly  confronted 
him.  Yet  that  restless  pain — and  the  intense  emotion 
of  their  awakening — all  the  doubts,  all  the  anxieties — the 

229 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


wonder  and  happiness  and  sadness  in  the  imminence  of 
that  strange  future  impending  for  them  both — had  al 
tered  nothing  in  his  work — brought  into  it  no  new 
quality — unless,  as  he  thought,  it  had  intensified  to  a 
dazzling  brilliancy  the  same  qualities  which  already  had 
made  his  work  famous. 

"  It's  all  talk,"  he  said  to  himself—"  it's  sentimental 
jargon,  precious  twaddle — all  this  mysterious  babble 
about  occult  quality  and  humanity  and  sympathy.  If 
Jose  Querida  has  the  capacity  of  a  chipmunk  for  mental 
agony,  I've  lost  my  bet  that  he  hasn't." 

And  all  the  time  he  was  conscious  that  there  was 
something  about  Querida's  work  which  made  that  work 
great;  and  that  it  was  not  in  his  own  work,  and 
that  his  own  work  was  not  great,  and  never  had  been 
great. 

"  But  it  will  be,"  he  said  rather  grimly  to  himself 
one  day,  turning  with  a  shrug  from  his  amazing  canvas 
and  pulling  the  unfinished  portrait  of  Valerie  into  the 
cold  north  light. 

For  a  long  while  he  stood  before  it,  searching  in  it 
for  any  hint  of  that  elusive  and  n^sterious  something, 
and  found  none. 

Moreover  there  was  in  the  painting  of  this  picture 
a  certain  candour  amounting  to  stupidity — an  uncer 
tainty  —  a  nai've,  groping  sort  of  brush  work.  It 
seemed  to  be  technically,  almost  deliberately,  muddled. 
There  was  a  tentative  timidity  about  it  that  surprised 
his  own  technical  assurance — almost  moved  him  to  con 
tempt. 

What  had  he  been  trying  to  do?  For  what  had  he 
been  searching  in  those  slow,  laborious,  almost  painful 
brush  strokes — in  that  clumsy  groping  for  values,  in 

230 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


the  painstaking  reticence,  the  joyless  and  mathematical 
establishment  of  a  sombre  and  uninspiring  key,  in  the 
patient  plotting  of  simpler  planes  where  space  and 
quiet  reigned  unaccented? 

"  Lord !  "  he  said,  biting  his  lip.  "  I've  been  stung 
by  the  microbe  of  the  precious !  I'll  be  talking  Art 
next  with  both  thumbs  and  a  Vandyke  beard." 

Still,  through  his  self-disgust,  a  sensation  of  respect 
for  the  canvas  at  which  he  was  scowling,  persisted.  Nor 
could  he  account  for  the  perfectly  unwelcome  and  in 
voluntary  idea  that  there  was,  about  the  half -finished 
portrait,  something  almost  dignified  in  the  very  candour 
of  its  painting. 

John  Burleson  came  striding  in  while  he  was  still 
examining  it.  He  usually  came  about  tea  time,  and  the 
door  was  left  open  after  five  o'clock. 

"  O-ho ! "  he  said  in  his  big,  unhumorous  voice, 
"  what  in  hell  and  the  name  of  Jimmy  Whistler  have  we 
here?" 

"Mud,"  said  Neville,  shortly— "  like  Mr.  Whist 
ler's." 

"  He  was  muddy — sometimes,"  said  John,  seriously, 
"  but  you  never  were  until  this." 

"  Oh,  I  know  it,  Johnny.  Something  infected  me. 
I  merely  tried  to  do  what  isn't  in  me.  And  this  is  the 
result.  When  a  man  decides  he  has  a  mission,  you  can 
never  tell  what  fool  thing  he'll  be  guilty  of." 

"It's  Valerie  West,  isn't  it?"  demanded  John, 
bluntly. 

"  She  won't  admire  you  for  finding  any  resemblance," 
said  Neville,  laughing. 

The  big  sculptor  rubbed  his  big  nose  reflect 
ively. 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  what  is  so  bad  about  it, 
Kelly?" 

"  Oh,  everything." 

"  No,  it  isn't.  There's  something  about  it  that's — 
different — and  interesting ' 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  John,  and  fix  yourself  a  drink 

"Kelly,  I'm  telling  you  that  it  isn't  bad— that 
there's  something  terribly  solid  and  sincere  about  this 
beginning " 

He  looked  around  with  a  bovine  grunt  as  Sam 
Ogilvy  and  Harry  Annan  came  mincing  in :  "I  say, 
you  would-be  funny  fellows ! — come  over  and  tell  Kelly 
Neville  that  he's  got  a  pretty  good  thing  here  if  he 
only  has  the  brains  to  develop  it !  " 

Neville  lighted  a  cigarette  and  looked  on  cynically 
as  Ogilvy  and  Annan  joined  Burleson  on  tiptoe,  af 
fecting  exaggerated  curiosity. 

"  I  think  it's  rotten,"  said  Annan,  after  a  moment's 
scrutiny;  "  don't  you,  Sam?  " 

Ogilvy,  fists  thrust  deep  into  the  pockets  of  his 
painting  jacket,  eyed  the  canvas  in  silence. 

"  Don't  you?  "  repeated  Annan.  "  Or  is  it  a  mas 
terpiece  beyond  my  vulgar  ken  ?  " 

"  Well — no.  Kelly  was  evidently  trying  to  get  at 
something  new — work  out  some  serious  idea.  No,  I 
don't  think  it's  rotten  at  all.  I  rather  like  it." 

"  It  looks  too  much  like  her ;  that's  why  it's  rotten," 
said  Annan.  "  Thank  God  I've  a  gift  for  making  pretty 
women  out  of  my  feminine  clients,  otherwise  I'd  starve. 
Kelly,  you  haven't  made  Valerie  pretty  enough.  That's 
the  trouble.  Besides,  it's  muddy  in  spots.  Her  gown 
needs  dry-cleaning.  But  my  chief  criticism  is  the  ter 
rible  resemblance  to  the  original." 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Ah-h,  what  are  you  talking  about !  "  growled  Bur- 
leson ;  "  did  you  ever  see  a  prettier  girl  than  Valerie 
West?" 

Ogilvy  said  slowly :  "  She's  pretty — to  look  at  in 
real  life.  But,  somehow,  Kelly  has  managed  here  to 
paint  her  more  exactly  than  we  have  really  ever  noticed 
her.  That's  Valerie's  face  and  figure  all  right ;  and  it's 
more — it  reflects  what  is  going  on  inside  her  head — 
ah*  the  unbaked,  unassimilated  ideas  of  immaturity  whir 
ring  in  a  sequence  which  resembles  logic  to  the  young, 
but  isn't." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  such  bally  stuff  ? "  de 
manded  Burleson,  bluntly. 

Annan  laughed,  but  Ogilvy  said  seriously : 

"  I  mean  that  Kelly  has  painted  something  interest 
ing.  It's  a  fascinating  head — all  soft  hair  and  delicious 
curves,  and  the  charming  indecision  of  immature  con 
tours  which  ought  some  day  to  fall  into  a  nobler  firm 
ness.  .  .  .  It's  as  interesting  as  a  satire,  I  tell  you. 
Look  at  that  perfectly  good  mouth  and  its  delicate  sen 
sitive  decision  with  a  hint  of  puritanical  primness  in  the 
upper  lip — and  the  full,  sensuous  under  lip  mocking  the 
upper  and  giving  the  lie  to  the  child's  eyes  which  are 
still  wide  with  the  wonder  of  men  and  things.  And 
there's  something  of  an  adolescent's  mystery  in  the  eyes, 
too — a  hint  of  languor  where  the  bloom  of  the  cheek 
touches  the  lower  lid — and  those  smooth,  cool,  little 
hands,  scarcely  seen  in  the  shadow — did  you  ever  see 
more  purity  and  innocence — more  character  and  the 
lack  of  it — painted  into  a  pair  of  hands  since  Van  Dyck 
and  Whistler  died?" 

Neville,  astonished,  stood  looking  incredulously  at 
the  canvas  around  which  the  others  had  gathered. 

233 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Burleson  said :  "  There's  something  honest  and  solid 
about  it,  anyway;  hanged  if  there  isn't." 

"  Like  a  hen,"  suggested  Ogilvy,  absently. 

"  Like  a  hen?  "  repeated  Burleson.  "  What  in  hell 
has  a  hen  got  to  do  with  the  subject?  " 

"  Like  you,  then,  John,"  said  Annan,  "  honest, 
solid,  but  totally  unacquainted  with  the  finer  phases  of 
contemporary  humour " 

"  I'm  as  humorous  as  anybody !  "  roared  Burleson. 

"  Sure  you  are,  John — just  as  humorously  contem 
poraneous  as  anybody  of  our  anachronistic  era,"  said 
Ogilvy,  soothingly.  "  You're  right ;  there's  nothing 
funny  about  a  hen." 

"  And  here's  a  highball  for  you,  John,"  said  Neville, 
concocting  a  huge  one  on  the  sideboard. 

"  And  here  are  two  charming  ladies  for  you,  John," 
added  Sam,  as  Valerie  and  Rita  Tevis  entered  the  open 
door  and  mockingly  curtsied  to  the  company. 

"  We've  dissected  your  character,"  observed  Annan 
to  Valerie,  pointing  to  her  portrait.  "We  know  all  about 
you  now;  Sam  was  the  professor  who  lectured  on  you, 
but  you  can  blame  Kelly  for  turning  on  the  searchlight." 

"What  search-light?"  she  asked,  pivotting  from 
Neville's  greeting,  letting  her  gloved  hand  linger  in 
his  for  just  a  second  longer  than  convention  required. 

"  Harry  means  that  portrait  of  you  I  started 
last  year,"  said  Neville,  vexed.  "  He  pretends  to  find 
it  full  of  psychological  subtleties." 

"Do  you?"  inquired  Valerie.  "Have  you  discov 
ered  anything  horrid  in  my  character?  " 

"  I  haven't  finished  looking  for  the  character  yet," 
said  Sam  with  an  impudent  grin.  "  When  I  find  it  I'll 
investigate  it." 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"Sam!     Come  here!" 

He  came  carefully,  wincing  when  she  took  him  by 
the  generous  lobes  of  both  ears. 

"  Now  what  did  you  say?  " 

"  Help  !  "  he  murmured,  contritely ;  "  will  no  kind 
way f  arer  aid  me  ?  " 

"  Answer  me !  " 

"  I  only  said  you  were  beautifully  decorative  but  in 
tellectually  impulsive " 

"  No,  answer  me,  Sam !  " 

"  Ouch !  I  said  you  had  a  pair  of  baby  eyes  and  an 
obstinate  mouth  and  an  immature  mind  that  came  to 
conclusions  before  facts  were  properly  assimilated.  In 
other  words  I  intimated  that  you  were  afflicted  with 
incurable  femininity  and  extreme  youth,"  he  added  with 
satisfaction,  "  and  if  you  tweak  my  ears  again  I'll  kisg 
you!" 

She  let  him  go  with  a  last  disdainful  tweak,  grace 
fully  escaping  his  charge  and  taking  refuge  behind 
Neville  who  was  mixing  another  highball  for  Annan. 

"  This  is  a  dignified  episode,"  observed  Neville, 
threatening  Ogilvy  with  the  siphon. 

"  Help  me  make  tea,  Sam,"  coaxed  Valerie.  "  Bring 
out  the  table;  that's  an  exceedingly  nice  boy.  Ritas 
you'll  have  tea,  too,  won't  you,  dear?  " 

Unconsciously  she  had  come  to  assume  the  role  of 
hostess  in  Neville's  studio,  even  among  those  who  had 
been  familiar  there  long  before  Neville  ever  heard 
of  her. 

Perfectly  unaware  herself  of  her  instinctive  attitude, 
other  people  noticed  it.  For  the  world  is  sharp-eyed, 
and  its  attitude  is  always  alert,  ears  pricked  forward 
even  when  its  tail  wags  good-naturedly. 

235 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Ogilvy  watched  her  curiously  as  she  took  her  seat 
at  the  tea  table.  Then  he  glanced  at  Neville ;  but  could 
not  make  up  his  mind. 

It  would  be  funny  if  there  was  anything  between 
Valerie  and  Neville — anything  more  than  there  ever  had 
been  between  the  girl  and  dozens  of  her  men  friends. 
For  Ogilvy  never  allowed  himself  to  make  any  mistake 
concerning  the  informality  and  freedom  of  Valerie  West 
in  her  intimacies  with  men  of  his  kind.  She  was  a 
born  flirt,  a  coquette,  daring,  even  indiscreet;  but  that 
ended  it;  and  he  knew  it;  and  so  did  every  man  with 
whom  she  came  in  contact. 

Yet — and  he  looked  again  at  her  and  then  at  Neville 
• — there  seemed  to  him  to  be,  lately,  something  a  little 
different  in  the  attitudes  of  these  two  toward  each  other 
— nothing  that  he  could  name — but  it  preoccupied  him 
sometimes. 

There  was  a  little  good-natured  malice  in  Ogilvy ; 
some  masculine  curiosity,  too.  Looking  from  Valerie 
to  Neville,  he  said  very  innocently : 

"  Kelly,  you  know  that  peachy  dream  with  whom 
you  cut  up  so  shamefully  on  New-year's  night?  Well, 
she  asked  me  for  your  telephone  number " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  demanded  Neville, 
annoyed. 

"  Why,  I'm  talking  about  Mazie,"  said  Sam,  pleas 
antly.  "  You  remember  Mazie  Gray  ?  And  how  crazy 
you  and  she  became  about  each  other?  " 

Valerie,  who  was  pouring  tea,  remained  amiably  un 
concerned;  and  Ogilvy  obtained  no  satisfaction  from 
her;  but  Neville's  scowl  was  so  hearty  and  unfeigned 
that  a  glimpse  of  his  visage  sent  Annan  into  fits  of 
laughter.  To  relieve  which  he  ran  across  the  floor,  like 

236 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


a  huge  spider.  Then  Valerie  leisurely  lifted  her  tran 
quil  eyes  and  her  eyebrows,  too,  a  trifle. 

"  Why  such  unseemly  contortions,  Harry  ?  "  she  in 
quired. 

"  Sam  tormenting  Kelly  to  stir  you  up !  He's  got 
a  theory  that  you  and  Kelly  are  mutually  infatuated." 

"  What  a  delightful  theory,  Sam,"  said  Valerie,  smil 
ing  so  sincerely  at  Ogilvy  that  he  made  up  his  mind 
there  wasn't  anything  in  it.  But  the  next  moment, 
catching  sight  of  Neville's  furious  face,  his  opinion 
wavered. 

Valerie  said  laughingly  to  Rita :  "  They'll  never 
grow  up,  these  two — "  nodding  her  head  toward  Ogilvy 
and  Annan.  And  to  Neville  carelessly — too  carelessly: 
"  Will  you  have  a  little  more  tea,  Kelly  dear  ?  " 

Her  attitude  was  amiable  and  composed;  her  voice 
clear  and  unembarrassed.  There  may  have  been  a  trifle 
more  colour  in  her  cheeks;  but  what  preoccupied  Rita 
was  in  her  eyes — a  fleeting  glimpse  of  something  that 
suddenly  concentrated  all  of  Rita's  attention  upon  the 
girl  across  the  table. 

For  a  full  minute  she  sat  looking  at  Valerie  who 
seemed  pleasantly  unconscious  of  her  inspection;  then 
almost  stealthily  she  shifted  her  gaze  to  Neville. 

Gladys  and  her  kitten  came  purring  around  in  quest 
of  cream ;  Rita  gathered  them  into  her  arms  and  caressed 
them  and  fed  them  bits  of  cassava  and  crumbs  of  cake. 
She  was  unusually  silent  that  afternoon.  John  Burle- 
son  tried  to  interest  her  with  heavy  information  of  vari 
ous  kinds,  but  she  only  smiled  absently  at  that  worthy 
man.  Sam  Ogilvy  and  Harry  Annan  attempted  to 
goad  her  into  one  of  those  lively  exchanges  of  banter  in 
which  Rita  was  entirely  capable  of  taking  care  of  her- 

237 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


self.  But  her  smile  was  spiritless  and  non-combative; 
and  finally  they  let  her  alone  and  concentrated  their  tor 
ment  upon  Valerie,  who  endured  it  with  equanimity  and 
dangerously  sparkling  eyes,  and  an  occasional  lighten 
ing  retort  which  kept  those  young  men  busy,  especially 
when  the  epigram  was  in  Latin — which  hurt  their  feel 
ings. 

She  had  just  furnished  them  with  a  sample  of  this 
classical  food  for  thought  when  the  door-bell  rang  and 
Neville  looked  up  in  astonishment  to  see  Jose  Querida 
come  in. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  springing  up  with  friendly  hand 
outstretched — "  this  is  exceedingly  good  of  you,  Que 
rida.  You  have  not  been  here  in  a  very  long  while." 

Querida's  smile  showed  his  teeth;  he  bowed  to 
Valerie  and  to  Rita,  bowed  to  the  men  in  turn,  and 
smiled  on  Neville. 

"  In  excuse  I  must  plead  work,  my  dear  fellow — a 
poor  plea  and  poorer  excuse  for  the  pleasure  lost  in 
seeing  you — ':'  he  nodded  to  the  others — "  and  in 
missing  many  agreeable  little  gatherings — similar  to 
this,  I  fancy?" 

There  was  a  rising  inflection  to  his  voice  which  made 
the  end  of  his  little  speech  terminate  as  a  question ;  and 
he  looked  to  Valerie  for  his  answer. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  we  usually  have  tea  in  Kelly's 
studio.  And  you  may  have  some  now,  if  you  wish, 
Jose." 

He  nodded  his  thanks  and  placed  his  chair  beside 
hers. 

The  conversation  had  become  general ;  Rita  woke 
up,  dumped  the  cats  out  of  her  lap,  and  made  a  few 
viciously  verbal  passes  at  Ogilvy.  Burleson,  earnest 

238 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


and  most  worthy,  engaged  Querida's  attention  for  & 
while;  but  that  intellectually  lithe  young  man  evaded 
the  ponderously  impending  dispute  with  suave  skill, 
and  his  gentle  smile  lingered  longer  on  Valerie  than  on 
anybody  else.  Several  times,  with  an  adroit  carelessness 
that  seemed  to  be  purposeless,  he  contrived  to  draw 
Valerie  out  of  the  general  level  of  conversation  by  mere 
ly  lowering  his  voice ;  but  she  seemed  to  understand  the 
invitation ;  and,  answering  him  as  carelessly  as  he  spoke, 
keyed  her  replies  in  harmony  with  the  chatter  going  on 
around  them. 

He  drank  his  tea  smilingly;  listened  to  the  others; 
bore  his  part  modestly;  and  at  intervals  his  handsome 
eyes  wandered  about  the  studio,  reverting  frequently  tc 
the  great  canvas  overhead. 

"  You  know,"  he  said  to  Neville,  showing  the  eternal 
edge  of  teeth  under  his  crisp  black  beard — "  that  com 
position  of  yours  is  simply  superb.  I  am  all  for  it, 
Neville." 

"  I'm  glad  you  are,"  nodded  Neville,  pleasantly, 
"  but  it  hasn't  yet  developed  into  what  I  hoped  it 
might."  His  eyes  swerved  toward  Valerie ;  their  glances 
encountered  casually  and  passed  on.  Only  Rita  saw  the 
girl's  breath  quicken  for  an  instant — saw  the  scarcely 
perceptible  quiver  of  Neville's  mouth  where  the  smile 
twitched  at  his  lip  for  its  liberty  to  tell  the  whole  world 
that  he  was  in  love.  But  their  faces  were  placid,  their 
expressions  well  schooled;  Querida's  half -veiled  eyes 
appeared  to  notice  nothing  and  for  a  while  he  remained 
smilingly  silent. 

Later,  by  accident,  he  caught  sight  of  Valerie's  por 
trait;  he  turned  sharply  in  his  chair  and  looked  ful? 
at  the  canvas. 

9.39 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Nobody  spoke  for  a  moment ;  Neville,  who  was  pass 
ing  Valerie,  felt  the  slightest  contact  as  the  velvet  of  her 
fingers  brushed  across  his. 

Then  Querida  rose  and  walked  over  to  the  portrait 
and  stood  before  it  in  silence,  biting  at  his  vivid  under 
lip  and  at  the  crisp  hairs  of  his  beard  'that  framed  it. 

Without  knowing  why,  Neville  began  to  feel  that 
Querida  was  finding  in  that  half-finished  work  something 
that  disturbed  him ;  and  that  he  was  not  going  to  ac 
knowledge  what  it  was  that  he  saw  there,  whether  of 
good  or  of  the  contrary. 

Nobody  spoke  and  Querida  said  nothing. 

A  mild  hope  entered  Neville's  mind  that  the  some- 
thing,  which  had  never  been  in  any  work  of  his,  might 
perhaps  lie  latent  in  that  canvas — that  Querida  was  dis 
covering  it — without  a  pleasure — but  with  a  sensitive 
clairvoyance  which  was  already  warning  him  of  a  new 
banner  in  the  distance,  a  new  trumpet-call  from  the  bar 
riers,  another  lance  in  the  lists  where  he,  Querida,  had 
ridden  so  long  unchallenged  and  supreme. 

Within  him  he  felt  a  sudden  and  secret  excitement 
that  he  never  before  had  known — a  conviction  that  the 
unexpressed  hostility  of  Querida's  silence  was  the  truest 
tribute  ever  paid  him — the  tribute  that  at  last  was 
arousing  hope  from  its  apathy,  and  setting  spurs  to  his 
courage. 

Rita,  watching  Querida,  yawned  and  concealed  the 
indiscretion  with  her  hand  and  a  taunting  word  directed 
at  Ogilvy,  who  retorted  in  kind.  And  general  conversa 
tion  began  again. 

Querida  turned  toward  Neville,  caught  his  eye, 
and  shrugged: 

"  That  portrait  is  scarcely  in  your  happiest  man- 
240 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


ner,  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  grimace.  "  For  me — "  he 
touched  his  breast  with  long  pale  fingers —  "  I  adore 
your  gayer  vein — your  colour,  clarity — the  glamour  of 
splendour  that  you  alone  can  cast  over  such  works  as 
that — "  He  waved  his  hand  upward  toward  the  high 
canvas  looming  above.  And  he  smiled  at  Neville  and 
seated  himself  beside  Valerie. 

A  portfolio  of  new  mezzotints  attracted  Annan; 
others  gathered  around  to  examine  Neville's  treasures; 
the  tea  table  was  deserted  for  a  while  except  by  Querida 
and  Valerie.  Then  he  deliberately  dropped  his  voice: 

"Will  you  give  me  another  cup  of  tea,  Valerie? 
And  let  me  talk  to  you?  " 

"  With  pleasure."     She  set  about  preparing  it. 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  some  time,"  he  said  in  the 
same  caressing  undertone. 

"  You  haven't  required  me,  Jose." 

"  Must  it  be  entirely  a  matter  of  business  between 
us?" 

"  Why,  of  course,"  she  said  in  cool  surprise. 
"  You  know  perfectly  well  how  busy  I  am — and  must 
be." 

"  You  are  sometimes  busy — pouring  tea,  here." 

"  But  it  is  after  hours." 

"  Yet,  after  hours,  you  no  longer  drop  in  to  chat 
with  me." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do " 

"  Pardon.  Not  since — the  new  year  began.  .  .  . 
Will  you  permit  me  a  word  ?  " 

She  inclined  her  head  with  undisturbed  composure; 
he  went  on: 

"  I  have  asked  you  to  many  theatres,  invited  you  to 
dine  with  me,  to  go  with  me  to  many,  many  places. 

241 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


.And,  it  appeared,  that  you  had  always  other  engage 
ments.  .  .  .  Have  I  offended  you?" 

"  Of  course  not.  You  know  I  like  you  im 
mensely " 

"  Immensely,"  he  repeated  with  a  smile.  "  Once 
there  was  more  of  sentiment  in  your  response,  Valerie. 
There  is  little  sentiment  in  immensity." 

She  flushed :  "  I  was  spoons  on  you,"  she  said,  can 
didly.  "  I  was  silly  with  you — and  very  indiscreet.  .  .  . 
But  I'd  rather  not  recall  that " 

"  /  can  not  choose  but  recall  it ! " 

"  Nice  men  forget  such  things,"  she  said,  hastily. 

"  How  can  you  speak  that  way  about  it  ?  " 

"  Because  I  think  that  way,  Jose,"  she  said,  look 
ing  up  at  him ;  but  she  saw  no  answering  smile  in  his 
face,  and  little  colour  in  it ;  and  she  remained  unquietly 
conscious  of  his  gaze. 

"  I  will  not  talk  to  you  if  you  begin  to  look  at  me 
like  that,"  she  began  under  her  breath ;  "  I  don't  care 
for  it— 

"  Can  I  help  it — remembering " 

"  You  have  nothing  to  remember  except  my  par 
don,"  she  interrupted  hotly. 

"  Your  pardon — for  showing  that  I  cared  for  you?  " 

"  My  pardon  for  your  losing  your  head." 

"  We  were  absolutely  frank  with  one  another " 

"  I  do  not  understand  that  you  are  the  sort  of 
man  a  girl  can  not  be  frank  with.  We  imprudently 
exchanged  a  few  views  on  life.  You 

"  Many,"  he  said — "  and  particularly  views  on  mar 
riage." 

She  said,  steadily :  "  I  told  you  that  I  cared  at  heart 
nothing  at  all  for  ceremony  and  form.  You  said  the 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


same.  But  you  misunderstood  me.  What  was  there 
in  that  silly  conversation  significant  to  you  or  to  me 
other  than  an  impersonal  interest  in  hearing  ideas  ex 
pressed?  " 

"  You  knew  I  was  in  love  with  you." 

"  I  did  not!  "  she  said,  sharply. 

"  You  let  me  touch  your  hands — kiss  you,  once " 

"  And  you  behaved  like  a  madman — and  frightened 
me  nearly  to  death !  Had  you  better  recall  that  night, 
Jose  ?  I  was  generous  about  it ;  I  was  even  a  little 
sorry  for  you.  And  I  forgave  you." 

"  Forgave  me  my  loving  you  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  love  is,"  she  said,  reddening. 

"Do  you,  Valerie?" 

She  sat  flushed  and  silent,  looking  fixedly  at  the  cups 
and  saucers  before  her. 

"  Do  you?  "  he  repeated  in  a  curious  voice.  And 
there  seemed  to  be  something  of  terror  in  it,  for  she 
looked  up,  startled,  to  meet  his  long,  handsome  eyes 
looking  at  her  out  of  a  colourless  visage. 

"  Jose,"  she  said,  "  what  in  the  world  possesses  you 
to  speak  to  me  this  way?  Have  you  any  right  to  as 
sume  this  attitude — merely  because  I  flirted  with  you* 
as  harmlessly — or  meant  it  harmlessly " 

She  glanced  involuntarily  across  the  studio  where 
the  others  had  gathered  over  the  new  collection  of  mezzo 
tints,  and  at  her  glance  Neville  raised  his  head  and 
smiled  at  her,  and  encountered  Querida's  expressionless 
gaze. 

For  a  moment  Querida  turned  his  head  away,  and 
Valerie  saw  that  his  face  was  pale  and  sinister. 

"  Jose,"  she  said,  "  are  you  insane  to  take  our  in 
nocent  affair  so  seriously?  What  in  the  world  has 

243 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


come  over  you?  We  have  been  such  excellent  friends. 
You  have  been  just  as  nice  as  you  could  be,  so  gay  and 
inconsequential,  so  witty,  so  jolly,  such  good  company! 
— and  now,  suddenly,  out  of  a  perfectly  clear  sky  your 
wrath  strikes  me  like  lightning !  " 

"  My  anger  is— like  that." 

"  Jose !  "  she  exclaimed,  incredulously. 

He  showed  the  edge  of  perfect  teeth  again,  but  she 
was  not  sure  that  he  was  smiling.  Then  he  laughed 
gently. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  in  relief — "  you  really  startled  me." 

"  I  won't  do  it  again,  Valerie."  She  looked  at  him, 
still  uncertain,  fascinated  by  her  uncertainty. 

The  colour — as  much  as  he  ever  had — returned  to 
his  face;  he  reached  over  for  a  cigarette,  lighted  it, 
smiled  at  her  charmingly. 

"  I  was  just  lonely  without  you,"  he  said.  "  Like 
an  unreasonable  child  I  brooded  over  it  and — "  he 
shrugged,  "  it  suddenly  went  to  my  head.  Will  you 
forgive  my  bad  temper  ?  " 

"  Yes — I  will.  Only  I  never  knew  you  had  a  tem 
per.  It — astonishes  me." 

He  said  nothing,  smilingly. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on,  still  flushed,  "  I  knew  you 
were  impulsive — hot-headed — but  I  know  you  like 
me " 

"  I  was  crazily  in  love  with  you,"  he  said,  lightly ; 
"  and  when  you  let  me  touch  you — 

"  Oh,  I  won't  ever  again,  Jose !  "  she  exclaimed,  half- 
fearfully ;  "  I  supposed  you  understood  that  sentiment 
could  be  a  perfectly  meaningless  and  harmless  thing — 
merely  a  silly  moment — a  foolish  interlude  in  a  sober 

friendship.  .  .  .  And  I  liked  you,  Jose " 

244 


"'I  shall  have  need  of  friends,'  she  said  half  to  herself." 

"Can  you  stiU  like  me?" 

"  Y-yes.     Why,  of  course— if  you'll  let  me." 

"  Shall  we  be  the  same  excellent  friends,  Valerie? 
And  all  this  ill  temper  of  mine  will  be  forgotten  ?  " 

"  I'll  try.  .   .  .  Yes,  why  not?     I  do  like  you,  and 
I  admire  you  tremendously." 

His  eyes  rested  on  her  a  moment;  he  inhaled  a  deep 
breath  from  his  cigarette,  expelled  it,  nodded. 

245 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I'll  try  to  win  back  all  your  friendship  for  me," 
he  said,  pleasantly. 

"  That  will  be  easy.  I  want  you  to  like  me.  I 
want  to  be  able  to  like  you.  ...  I  shall  have 
need  of  friends,"  she  said  half  to  herself,  and  looked 
across  at  Neville  with  a  face  tranquil,  almost 
expressionless  save  for  the  sensitive  beauty  of  the 
mouth. 

After  a  moment  Querida,  too,  lifted  his  head  and 
gazed  deliberately  at  Neville.  Then  very  quietly : 

"  Are  you  dining  alone  this  evening?  " 

"  No." 

"  Oh.     Perhaps  to-morrow  evening,  then " 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Jose." 

He  smiled :  "  Not  dining  alone  ever  again  ?  " 

"  Not — for  the  present." 

"I  see." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  see,"  she  said  calmly. 
But  his  smile  seemed  now  so  genuine  that  it  disarmed 
her;  and  she  blushed  when  he  said: 

"  Am  I  to  wish  you  happiness,  Valerie?  Is  that  the 
trouble?" 

"  Certainly.  Please  wish  it  for  me  always — as  I 
do  for  you — and  for  everybody." 

But  he  continued  to  laugh,  and  the  colour  in  her 
face  persisted,  annoying  her  intensely. 

"  Nevertheless,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  believe  you  can 
be  hopelessly  in  love." 

"  What  ever  put  such  an  idea  into  that  cynical  head 
of  yours  ?  " 

"  Chance,"  he  said.  "  But  you  are  not  irrevocably 
in  love.  You  are  ignorant  of  what  love  can  really  mean. 
Only  he  who  understands  it — and  who  has  suffered 

246 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


through  it — can  ever  teach  you.     And  you  will  never 
be  satisfied  until  he  does." 

"  Are  you  very  wise  concerning  love,  Jose  ?  "   she 
asked,  laughing. 


"'Don't  do  it,  Valerie!'" 

"  Perhaps.     You  will  desire  to  be,  too,  some  day« 
A  good  school,  an  accomplished  scholar." 
"And  the  schoolmaster?     Oh!  Jose!" 
247 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


They  both  were  laughing  now — he  with  apparent 
pleasure  in  her  coquetry  and  animation,  she  still  a  little 
confused  and  instinctively  on  her  guard. 

Rita  came  strolling  over,  a  tiny  cigarette  balanced 
between  her  slender  fingers : 

"  Stop  flirting,  Jose,"  she  said ;  "  it's  too  near  din 
ner  time.  Valerie,  child,  I'm  dining  with  the  unspeak 
able  John  again.  It's  a  horrid  habit.  Can't  you  pre 
scribe  for  me?  Jose,  what  are  you  doing  this  evening?  " 

"  Penance,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  dining  with  my  family." 

"  Penance,"  she  repeated  with  a  singular  look — 
"  well — that's  one  way  of  regarding  the  pleasure  of  hav 
ing  any  family  to  dine  with — isn't  it,  Valerie?  " 

"  Jose  didn't  mean  it  that  way." 

Rita  blew  a  ring  from  her  cigarette's  glimmering 
end. 

"Will  you  be  at  home  this  evening,  Valerie?" 

"  Y-yes  .  .  .  rather  late." 

"Too  late  to  see  me?" 

"  No,  you  dear  girl.  Come  at  eleven,  anyway. 
And  if  I'm  a  little  late  you'll  forgive  me,  won't  you?  " 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Rita,  crossly.  "  You  and  I  are 
business  women,  anyway,  and  eleven  is  too  late  for  week 
days.  I'll  wait  until  I  can  see  you,  sometime " 

"  Was  it  anything  important,  dear  ?  " 

"  Not  to  me." 

Querida  rose,  took  his  leave  of  Valerie  and  Rita, 
went  over  and  made  his  adieux  to  his  host  and  the  others. 
When  he  had  gone  Rita,  standing  alone  with  Valerie 
beside  the  tea  table,  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Don't  do  it,  Valerie !  " 

"  Do — what  ?  "  asked  the  girl  in  astonishment. 

"  Fall  in  love." 

248 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Valerie  laughed. 

"  Do  you  mean  with  Querida  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then — what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You're  on  the  edge  of  doing  it,  child.  It  isn't 
wise.  It  won't  do  for  us.  ...  I  know — I  know,  Valerie, 
more  than  you  know  about — love.  Listen  to  me. 
Don't !  Go  away — go  somewhere ;  drop  everything  and 
go,  if  you've  any  sense  left.  I'll  go  with  you  if  you 
will  let  me.  .  .  .  I'll  do  anything  for  you,  dear.  Only 
listen  to  me  before  it's  too  late ;  keep  your  self-control ; 
keep  your  mind  clear  on  this  one  thing,  that  love  is  of 
no  use  to  us — no  good  to  us.  And  if  you  think  you 
suspect  its  presence  in  your  neighbourhood,  get  away 
from  it ;  pick  up  your  skirts  and  run,  Valerie.  .  .  . 
You've  plenty  of  time  to  come  back  and  wonder  wThat 
you  ever  could  have  seen  in  the  man  to  make  you  believe 
you  could  fall  in  love  with  him." 

Ogilvy,  strolling  up,  stood  looking  sentimentally  at 
the  two  young  girls. 

"A  —  perfect — pair  —  of  precious  —  priceless  — 
peaches,"  he  said ;  "  I'd  love  to  be  a  Turk  with  an  Orien 
tal  smirk  and  an  ornamental  dirk,  and  a  tendency  to 
shirk  when  the  others  go  to  work;  for  the  workers  I 
can't  bear  'em  and  I'd  rather  run  a  harem " 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Rita,  coldly ;  "  so  you  need  not 
explain  to  me  the  rather  lively  young  lady  I  met  in  the 
corridor  looking  for  studio  number  ten " 

"  Rita !  Zuleika !  Star  of  my  soul !  Jewel  of  my 
turban  !  Do  you  entertain  suspicions " 

"  Oh,  you  probably  did  the  entertaining " 

"I?  Heaven!  How  I  am  misunderstood!  John 
Burleson !  Come  over  here  and  tell  this  very  charming 

251 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


young  lady  all  about  that  somewhat  conspicuous  vision 
from  a  local  theatre  who  came  floating  into  my  studio 
by  accident  while  in  joyous  quest  of  you!" 

But  Annan  only  laughed,  and  Rita  shrugged  her 
disdain.  But  as  she  nodded  adieu  to  Valerie,  the  latter 
saw  a  pinched  look  in  her  face,  and  did  not  under 
stand  it. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  world,  and  his  own  family,  had  always  been 
inclined  to  love  Louis  Neville,  and  had  advanced  no  far 
ther  than  the  inclination.  There  were  exceptions. 

Archie  Allaire,  who  hated  him,  discussing  him  florid 
ly  once  with  Querida  at  the  Thumb-tack  Club  in  the 
presence  of  a  dozen  others,  characterised  him  as  "  one 
of  those  passively  selfish  snobs  whose  virtues  are  all  neg 
ative  and  whose  modesty  is  the  mental  complacency  of 
an  underdone  capon." 

He  was  sharply  rebuked  by  Ogilvy,  Annan,  and 
Burleson ;  skilfully  by  Querida — so  adroitly  indeed  that 
his  amiable  and  smiling  apology  for  the  absent  painter 
produced  a  curiously  depressing  effect  upon  Ogilvy  and 
Annan,  and  even  left  John  Burleson  dully  uncomfort 
able,  although  Allaire  had  been  apparently  well  drubbed. 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Allaire  with  a  sneer  to  Querida 
after  the  others  had  departed,  "  Neville  is  really  a  most 
frightful  snob.  Like  a  busy  bacillus  surrounded  by  a 
glass  tube  full  of  prepared  culture,  he  exists  in  his  own 
intellectual  exudations  perfectly  oblivious  to  the  mis 
eries  and  joys  of  the  world  around  him.  He  hasn't  time 
for  anybody  except  himself." 

Querida  laughed :  "  What  has  Neville  done  to  you, 
my  friend?  " 

"  To  me  ?  "  repeated  Allaire  with  a  shrug.  "  Oh, 
nothing.  It  isn't  that.  .  .  .  All  the  same  when  I  had 

253 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


my  exhibition  at  the  Monson  Galleries  I  went  to  him  and 
said,  '  See  here,  Neville,  I've  got  some  Shoe-trust  and 
Button-trust  women  to  pour  tea  for  me.  Now  you 
know  a  lot  of  fashionable  people  and  I  want  my 
teapourers  to  see  them,  and  I  want  the  papers  to 
say  that  they've  been  to  a  private  view  of  my  exhibi 
tion.' 

"  He  gave  me  one  of  those  absent-treatment  stares 
and  said  he'd  tell  all  the  really  interesting  people  he 
knew ;  and  the  damnedest  lot  of  scrubby,  dowdy,  down- 
at-the-heels  tatterdemalions  presented  his  card  at  my 
private  view  that  you  ever  saw  outside  an  artist's  raths 
keller,  a  lower  Fifth  Avenue  reception,  or  a  var 
nishing  day!  By  God,  I  can  go  to  the  bread-line  and 
get  that  sort  of  lookers  myself — and  I  don't  care 
whether  his  bunch  came  from  Tenth  Street  Colonial 
stock  or  the  Washington  Square  nobility  or  the  landed 
gentry  of  Chelsea  or  from  the  purlieus  of  the  Bronx, 
which  is  where  they  apparently  belong !  I  can  get  that 
kind  myself.  I  wanted  automobiles  and  broughams  and 
clothes,  and  I  got  one  sea-going  taxi,  and  the  dirty  end 
of  the  stick !  And  to  cap  the  climax  he  strolled  in  him 
self  with  a  girl  whose  face  is  familiar  to  everybody  who 
looks  at  bath  tubs  in  the  back  of  the  magazines — Valerie 
West !  And  I  want  to  tell  you  I  couldn't  look  my  Shoe- 
trust  tea-pourers  in  the  face ;  and  they're  so  mad  that  I 
haven't  got  an  order  out  of  them  since." 

Querida  laughed  till  the  tears  stood  in  his  big,  vel 
vety,  almond-shaped  eyes. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Tell  you  the  truth,  Querida,  I  would  have  if  I'd 
known  then  that  you  were  painting  portraits  of  half  of 
upper  Fifth  Avenue.  Besides,"  he  added,  naively, 

254 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  that  was  before  I  began  to  see  you  in  the  grand  tier 
at  the  opera  every  week." 

"  It  was  before  I  sat  anywhere  except  in  the  gal 
lery,"  said  Querida  with  a  humorous  shrug.  "  Until 
this  winter  I  knew  nobody,  either.  And  very  often  I 
washed  my  own  handkerchiefs  and  dried  them  on  the 
window  pane.  I  had  only  fame  for  my  laundress  and 
notoriety  for  my  butcher." 

"Hey?"  said  Allaire,  a  trifle  out  of  countenance. 

"  It  is  very  true.  It  cost  me  so  much  to  paint  and 
frame  my  pictures  that  the  prices  they  brought  scarcely 
paid  for  models  and  materials."  He  added,  pleasantly : 
"  I  have  dined  more  often  on  a  box  of  crackers  and  a 
jar  of  olives  than  at  a  table  set  with  silver  and  spread 
with  linen."  He  laughed  without  affectation  or  bitter 
ness ; 

"  It  has  been  a  long  road,  Allaire — from  a  stable- 
loft  studio  to —  '  he  shrugged — "  the  Van  Rypens' 
grand  tier  box,  for  example." 

"  How  in  God's  name  did  you  do  it  ?  "  inquired  Al 
laire,  awed  to  the  momentary  obliteration  of  envy. 

"  I — painted,"  said  Querida,  smiling. 

"  Sure.  I  know  that.  I  suppose  it  was  the  hellish 
row  made  over  your  canvases  last  winter  that  did  the 
trick." 

Querida's  eyes  were  partly  closed  as  though  in 
retrospection.  "  Also,"  he  said,  softly,  "  I  painted  a 
very  fashionable  woman — for  nothing — and  to  her  en 
tire  satisfaction." 

"  That's  the  real  thing,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  so.  ...  Make  two  or  three  unlovely 
and  unlovable  old  ladies  lovely  and  lovable — on  canvas — 
for  nothing.  Then  society  will  let  you  slap  its  powdered 

255 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


and  painted  face — yes — permit  you — other  liberties — if 
only  you  will  paint  it  and  sign  your  canvases  and  ask 
them  a  wicked  price  for  what  you  give  them  and — for 
what  they  yield  to  you." 

Allaire's  ruddy  face  grew  ruddier;  he  grinned  and 
passed  a  muscular  hand  over  his  thick,  handsome,  fox- 
tinted  hair. 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  next,"  he  said  with  a  hard 
glance  at  Querida.  "  I'd  sting  'em." 

"  I  would  be  very  glad  to  introduce  you  to  anybody 
I  know,"  observed  the  other. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  ?  " 

"  Why  not.  A  man  who  has  waited  as  I  have  for 
opportunity  understands  what  others  feel  who  are  still 
waiting." 

"  That's  damn  square  of  you,  Querida." 

"Oh,  no,  not  square;  just  natural.  The  public 
table  is  big  enough  for  everybody." 

Allaire  thought  a  moment,  slowly  caressing  his  foxy 
hair. 

"  After  all,"  he  said  with  a  nervous  snicker,  "  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  anybody.  Nobody  can  paint  like 
you.  .  .  .  But  I'd  like  to  get  a  look  in,  Querida.  I've 
got  to  make  a  little  money  in  one  way  or  another — "  he 
added  impudently — "  and  if  I  can't  paint  well  enough 
to  sting  them,  there's  always  the  chance  of  marrying 
one  of  'em." 

Querida  laughed :  "  Any  man  can  always  marry  any 
woman.  There's  no  trick  in  getting  any  wife  you 
want." 

"  Sure,"  grinned  Allaire ;  "  a  wife  is  a  cinch ;  it's 
the  front  row  that  keeps  good  men  guessing."  He 
glanced  at  Querida,  his  gray-green  eyes  brimming  with 

256 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


an  imprudent  malice  he  could  not  even  now  deny  him 
self.  "  Also  the  backs  of  the  magazines  keep  one  guess 
ing,"  he  added,  carelessly ;  "  and  I've  the  patience  of  a 
tom-cat,  myself." 

Querida's  beautifully  pencilled  eyebrows  were  raised 
interrogatively. 

"  Oh,  I'll  admit  that  the  little  West  girl  kept  me 
sitting  on  back  fences  until  some  other  fellow  threw  a 
bottle  at  me,"  said  Allaire  with  a  disagreeable  laugh. 
He  had  come  as  near  as  he  dared  to  taunting  Querida 
and,  afraid  at  the  last  moment,  had  turned  the  edge  of 
it  on  himself. 

Querida  lighted  a  cigarette  and  blew  a  whiff  of 
smoke  toward  the  ceiling. 

"  I've  an  idea,"  he  said,  lazily,  "  that  somebody  is 
trying  to  marry  her." 

"  Forget  it,"  observed  Allaire  in  contempt.  "  She 
wouldn't  stand  for  the  sort  who  marry  her  kind. 
She'll  land  hard  on  her  neck  one  of  these  days,  and  the 
one  best  bet  will  be  some  long- faced  Botticelli  with  heav 
enly  principles  and  the  moral  stability  of  a  tumbler 
pigeon.  Then  there'll  be  hell  to  pay;  but  Tie  will  get 
over  it  and  she'll  get  aboard  the  toboggan.  That's  the 
way  it  ends,  Querida." 

Querida  sipped  his  coffee  and  glanced  out  of  the 
club  window.  From  the  window  he  could  see  the  roof 
of  the  studio  building  where  Neville  lived.  And  he 
wondered  how  far  Valerie  was  from  that  building 
at  the  present  moment,  wondered,  and  sipped  his 
coffee. 

He  was  a  man  whose  career  had  been  builded  upon 
perseverance.  He  had  begun  life  by  slaying  every 
doubt.  And  his  had  been  a  bitter  life ;  but  he  had  suf- 

257 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


fered  smilingly ;  the  sordid  struggle  along  the  edges  of 
starvation  had  hardened  nothing  of  his  heart. 

Sensitive,  sympathetic,  ardent,  proud,  and  ambitious 
with  the  quiet  certainty  of  a  man  predestined,  he  had  a 
woman's  capacity  for  patience,  for  suffering,  and  for 
concealment,  but  not  for  mercy.  And  he  cared  pas 
sionately  for  love  as  he  did  for  beauty — had  succumbed 
to  both  in  spirit  oftener  than  in  the  caprice  of  some 
inconsequential  amourette. 

But  never,  until  he  came  to  know  Valerie  West,  had 
a  living  woman  meant  anything  vital  to  his  happiness. 
Yet,  what  she  aroused  in  him  was  that  part  of  his  nature 
to  which  he  himself  was  a  stranger — a  restless,  sensuous 
side  which  her  very  isolation  and  exposure  to  danger 
seemed  to  excite  the  more  until  desire  to  control  her, 
to  drive  others  away,  to  subdue,  master,  mould  her,  make 
her  his  own,  obsessed  him.  And  he  had  tried  it  and 
failed ;  and  had  drawn  aside,  fiercely,  still  watching  and 
determined. 

Some  day  he  meant  to  marry  properly.  He  had 
never  doubted  his  ability  to  do  so  even  in  the  sordid 
days.  But  there  was  no  hurry»  and  life  was  young, 
and  so  was  Valerie  West — young  enough,  beautiful 
enough  to  bridge  the  years  with  him  until  his  ultimate 
destiny  awaited  him. 

And  all  was  going  well  again  with  him  until  that 
New-year's  night;  and  matters  had  gone  ill  with  him 
since  then — so  ill  that  he  could  not  put  the  thought  of 
it  from  him,  and  her  beauty  haunted  him — and  the  ex 
pression  of  Neville's  eyes  ! 

But  he  remained  silent,  quiet,  alert,  watching  and 
waiting  with  all  his  capacity  for  enduring.  And  he  had 
now  something  else  to  watch — something  that  his  sensi- 

258 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


tive  intuition  had  divined  in  a  single  unfinished  canvas 
of  Neville's. 

So  far  there  had  been  but  one  man  supreme  in  the 
new  world  as  a  great  painter  of  sunlight  and  of  women. 
There  could  not  be  two.  And  he  already  felt  the  ap 
proach  of  a  shadow  menacing  the  glory  of  his  sunlight 
— already  stood  alert  and  fixedly  observant  of  a  young 
man  who  had  painted  something  disquieting  into  an  un 
finished  canvas. 

That  man  and  the  young  girl  whom  he  had  painted 
to  the  astonishment  and  inward  disturbance  of  Jose 
Querida,  were  having  no  easy  time  in  that  new  world 
which  they  had  created  for  themselves. 

Embarked  upon  an  enterprise  in  the  management 
of  which  they  were  neither  in  accord  nor  ever  seemed 
likely  to  be,  they  had,  so  far,  weathered  the  storms  of 
misunderstandings  and  the  stress  of  prejudice.  Blindly 
confident  in  Love,  they  were  certain,  so  far,  that  it  was 
Love  itself  that  they  worshipped  no  matter  what  rites 
and  ceremonies  each  one  observed  in  its  adoration.  Yet 
each  was  always  attempting  to  convert  the  other  to 
the  true  faith;  and  there  were  days  of  trouble  and  of 
tears  and  of  telephones. 

Neville  presented  a  frightfully  complex  problem  to 
Valerie  West. 

His  even-tempered  indifference  to  others — an  indif 
ference  which  had  always  characterised  him — had  left 
only  a  wider  and  deeper  void  now  filling  with  his  pas 
sion  for  her. 

They  were  passing  through  a  maze  of  cross-pur 
poses  ;  his  ardent  and  exacting  intolerance  of  any  creed 
and  opinion  save  his  own  was  ever  forcing  her  toward  a 

259 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


more  formal  and  literal  appreciation  of  what  he  was 
determined  must  become  a  genuine  and  formal  engage 
ment — which  attitude  on  his  part  naturally  produced 
clash  after  clash  between  them. 

That  he  entertained  so  confidently  the  conviction  of 
her  ultimate  surrender  to  convention,  at  moments  vexed 
her  to  the  verge  of  anger.  At  times,  too,  his  disposi 
tion  to  interfere  with  her  liberty  tried  her  patience. 
Again  and  again  she  explained  to  him  the  unalterable 
fundamentals  of  their  pact.  These  were,  first  of  all,  her 
refusal  to  alienate  him  from  his  family  and  his  own 
world;  second,  her  right  to  her  own  individuality  and 
freedom  to  support  herself  without  interference  or  un- 
requested  assistance  from  him ;  third,  absolute  independ 
ence  of  him  in  material  matters  and  the  perfect  liberty 
of  managing  her  own  little  financial  affairs  without  a 
hint  of  dependence  on  him  either  before  or  after  the 
great  change. 

That  she  posed  only  in  costume  now  did  not  satisfy 
him.  He  did  not  wish  her  to  pose  at  all ;  and  they  dis 
cussed  various  other  theatres  for  her  business  activity. 
But  she  very  patiently  explained  to  him  that  she  found, 
in  posing  for  interesting  people,  much  of  the  intellectual 
pleasure  that  he  and  other  men  found  in  painting ;  that 
the  life  and  the  environment,  and  the  people  she  met, 
made  her  happy ;  and  that  she  could  not  expect  to  meet 
cultivated  people  in  any  other  way. 

"  I  don't  want  to  learn  stenography  and  take  dicta 
tion  in  a  stuffy  office,  dear,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  don't 
want  to  sit  all  day  in  a  library  where  people  whisper 
about  books.  I  don't  want  to  teach  in  a  public  school 
or  read  novels  to  invalids,  or  learn  how  to  be  a  trained 
nurse  and  place  thermometers  in  people's  mouths.  I 

260 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


like  children  pretty  well  but  I  don't  want  to  be  a  gov 
erness  and  teach  other  people's  children;  I  want  to  be 
taught  myself;  I  want  to  learn — I'm  a  sort  of  a  child, 
too,  dear ;  and  it's  the  familiarity  with  wiser  people  and 
brighter  people  and  pleasant  surroundings  that  has 
made  me  as  happy  as  I  am — given  me  what  I  never  had 
as  a  child.  You  don't  understand,  but  I'm  having  my 
childhood  now — nursery,  kindergarten,  parties,  board 
ing-school,  finishing  school,  debut — all  concentrated  into 
this  happy  year  of  being  among  gay,  clever,  animated 
people." 

"  Yet  you  will  not  let  me  take  you  into  a  world  which 
is  still  pleasanter " 

And  the  eternal  discussion  immediately  became  in 
evitable,  tiring  both  with  its  earnestness  and  its  utter 
absence  of  a  common  ground.  Because  in  him  appar 
ently  remained  every  vital  germ  of  convention  and  of 
generations  of  training  in  every  precept  of  formality; 
and  in  her — for  with  Valerie  West  adolescence  had  ar 
rived  late — that  mystery  had  been  responsible  for  far- 
reaching  disturbances  consequent  on  the  starved  years 
of  self-imprisonment,  of  exaltations  suppressed,  of  fears 
and  doubts  and  vague  desires  and  dreams  ineffable  pos 
sessing  the  silence  of  a  lonely  soul. 

And  so,  essentially  solitary,  inevitably  lonely,  out 
of  her  own  young  heart  and  an  untrained  mind  she  was 
evolving  a  code  of  responsibility  to  herself  and  to  the 
world. 

Her  ethics  and  her  morals  were  becoming  what  wide, 
desultory,  and  unrestrained  reading  was  making  them; 
her  passion  for  happiness  and  for  truth,  her  restless  in 
telligence,  were  prematurely  forming  her  character. 
There  was  no  one  in  authority  to  tell  her — check,  guide, 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


or  direct  her  in  the  revolt  from  dogmatism,  pedantry, 
sophistry  and  conventionalism.  And  by  this  path 
youthful  intelligence  inevitably  passes,  incredulous  of 
snare  and  pitfall  where  lie  the  bones  of  many  a 
savant  under  magic  blossoms  nourished  by  creeds  long 
dead. 

"  To  bring  no  sorrow  to  any  one,  Louis — that  is 
the  way  I  am  trying  to  live,"  she  said,  seriously. 

"  You  are  bringing  it  to  me." 

"  If  that  is  so — then  I  had  better  depart  as  I  came 
and  leave  you  in  peace." 

"  It's  too  late." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not.      Shall  we  try  it?  " 

"  Could  you  recover?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  am  willing  to  try  for  your  sake." 

"  Do  you  want  to?  "  he  asked,  almost  angrily. 

"  I  am  not  thinking  of  myself,  Louis." 

"  I  want  you  to.  I  don't  want  you  not  to  think 
about  yourself  all  the  time." 

She  made  a  hopeless  gesture,  opening  her  arms  and 
turning  her  palms  outward : 

"  Kelly  Neville !  What  do  you  suppose  loving  you 
means  to  me?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  of  yourself  at  all  when  you  love 
me?" 

"  Why — I  suppose  I  do — in  a  way.  I  know  I'm 
fortunate,  happy — I—  She  glanced  up  shyly — "  I 
am  glad  that  I  am — loved " 

"You  darling!" 

She  let  him  take  her  into  his  arms,  suffered  his 
caress,  looking  at  him  in  silence  out  of  eyes  as  dark  and 
clear  and  beautiful  as  brown  pools  in  a  forest. 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  You're  just  a  bad,  spoiled,  perverse  little  kid, 
aren't  you?  "  he  said,  rumpling  her  hair. 

"  You  say  so." 

"  Breaking  my  heart  because  you  won't  marry  me." 

"  No,  breaking  my  own  because  you  don't  really  love 
me  enough,  yet." 

"  I  love  you  too  much 

"  That  is  literary  bosh,  Louis." 

"  Good  God !  Can't  you  ever  understand  that  I'm 
respectable  enough  to  want  you  for  my  wife?  " 

"  You  mean  that  you  want  me  for  what  I  do  not 
wish  to  be.  And  you  decline  to  love  me  unless  I  turn 
into  a  selfish,  dependent,  conventional  nonentity,  which 
you  adore  because  respectable.  Is  that  what  you 
mean?  " 

"  I  want  the  laws  of  civilisation  to  safeguard  you," 
he  persisted  patiently. 

"  I  need  no  more  protection  than  you  need.  I  am 
not  a  baby.  I  am  not  afraid.  Are  you  ?  " 

"  That  is  not  the  question " 

"  Yes  it  is,  dear.  I  stand  in  no  fear.  Why  do  you 
wish  to  force  me  to  do  what  I  believe  would  be  a  wrong 
to  you?  Can't  you  respect  my  disreputable  convic 
tions?" 

"  They  are  theories — not  convictions " 

"  Oh,  Kelly,  I'm  so  tired  of  hearing  you  say  that !  " 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be,  you  little  imp  of 
perversity !  " 

"  I  am.  .  .  .  And  I  wonder  how  I  can  love  you  just 
as  much  as  though  you  were  kind  and  reasonable  and — • 
and  minded  your  own  business,  dear." 

"  Isn't  it  my  business  to  tell  the  girl  to  whom  I'm 
engaged  what  I  believe  to  be  right?  " 

263 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Yes ;  and  it's  her  business  to  tell  you"  she  said, 
smiling ;  and  put  her  arms  higher  so  that  they  slipped 
around  his  neck  for  a  moment,  then  were  quickly  with 
drawn. 

"  What  a  thoroughly  obstinate  boy  you  are !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  We're  wasting  such  lots  of  time  in  argu 
ment  when  it's  all  so  very  simple.  Your  soul  is  your 
own  to  develop ;  mine  is  mine.  Noli  me  tangere!  " 

But  he  was  not  to  be  pacified ;  and  presently  she 
went  away  to  pour  their  tea,  and  he  followed  and  sat 
down  in  an  armchair  near  the  fire,  brooding  gaze  fixed 
on  the  coals. 

They  had  tea  in  hostile  silence ;  he  lighted  a  cigar 
ette,  but  presently  flung  it  into  the  fire  without 
smoking. 

She  said :  "  You  know,  Louis,  if  this  is  really  going 
to  be  an  unhappiness  to  you,  instead  of  a  happiness 
beyond  words,  we  had  better  end  it  now."  She  added, 
with  an  irrepressible  laugh,  partly  nervous,  "  Your  hap 
piness  seems  to  be  beyond  words  already.  Your  silence 
is  very  eloquent.  ...  I  think  I'll  take  my  doll  and  go 
home." 

She  rose,  stood  still  a  moment  looking  at  him  where 
he  sat,  head  bent,  staring  into  the  coals ;  then  a  swift 
tenderness  filled  her  eyes ;  her  sensitive  lips  quivered ; 
and  she  came  swiftly  to  him  and  took  his  head  into  her 
arms. 

"  Dear,"  she  whispered,  "  I  only  want  to  do  the 
best  for  you.  Let  me  try  in  my  own  way.  It's  all  for 
you — everything  I  do  or  think  or  wish  or  hope  is  for 
you.  Even  I  myself  was  made  merely  for  you." 

Sideways  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  she  stooped  down, 
laying  her  cheek  against  his,  drawing  his  face  closer. 

264 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  am  so  hopelessly  in  love  with  you,"  she  mur 
mured  ;  "if  I  make  mistakes,  forgive  me ;  remember 
only  that  it  is  because  I  love  you  enough  to  die  for 
you  very  willingly." 

He  drew  her  down  into  his  arms.  She  was  never 
quick  to  respond  to  the  deeper  emotions  in  him,  but  her 
cheeks  and  throat  were  flushed  now,  and,  as  his  embrace 
enclosed  her,  she  responded  with  a  sudden  flash  of  blind 
passion — a  moment's  impulsive  self-surrender  to  his 
lips  and  arms — and  drew  away  from  him  dazed, 
trembling,  shielding  her  face  with  one  arm. 

All  that  the  swift  contact  was  awakening  in  him 
turned  on  her  fiercely  now ;  in  his  arms  again  she 
swayed,  breathless,  covering  her  face  with  desperate 
hands,  striving  to  comprehend,  to  steady  her  senses,  to 
reason  while  pulses  and  heart  beat  wildly  and  every  vein 
ran  fire. 

"  No — "  she  stammered — "  this  is — is  wrong — 
wrong!  Louis,  I  beg  you,  to  remember  what  I  am  to 
you.  .  .  .  Don't  kiss  me  again — I  ask  you  not  to — I 
pray  that  you  won't.  .  .  .  We  are — I  am — engaged  to 
you,  dear.  .  .  .  Oh — it  is  wrong — wrong,  now! — all 
wrong  between  us  !  " 

"  Valerie,"  he  stammered,  "  you  care  nothing  for 
any  law — nor  do  I — now " 

"I  do!  You  don't  understand  me!  Let  me  go. 
Louis — you  don't  love  me  enough.  .  .  .  This — this  is 
madness — wickedness  ! — you  can't  love  me  !  You  don't 
— you  can't !  " 

"  I  do  love  you,  Valerie " 

"  No — no — or  you  would  let  me  go ! — or  you  would 
not  kiss  me  again " 

She  freed  herself,  breathless,  crimson  with  shame 
265 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


and  anger,  avoiding  his  eyes,  and  slipped  out  of  his 
embrace  to  her  knees,  sank  down  on  the  rug  at  his  feet, 
and  laid  her  head  against  the  chair,  breathing  fast, 
both  small  hands  pressed  to  her  breast. 

For  a  few  minutes  he  let  her  lie  so ;  then,  stooping 
over  her,  white  lipped,  trembling: 

"  What  can  you  expect  if  we  sow  the  wind?  " 

She  began  to  cry,  softly :  "  You  don't  understand — - 
you  never  have  understood !  " 

"  I  understand  this :  that  I  am  ready  to  take  you  in 
your  way,  now.  I  cannot  live  without  you,  and  I  won't. 
I  care  no  longer  how  I  take  you,  or  when,  or  where,  as 
long  as  I  can  have  you  for  mine,  to  keep  for  ever,  to 
love,  to  watch  over,  to  worship.  .  .  .  Dear — will  you 
speak  to  me?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  desolately,  where  it  lay  now 
against  his  knees,  amid  its  tumbled  hair. 

Then  he  asked  again  for  her  forgiveness — almost 
fiercely,  for  passion  still  swayed  him  with  every  word. 
He  told  her  he  loved  her,  adored  her,  could  not  endure 
life  without  her;  that  he  was  only  too  happy  to  take 
her  on  any  terms  she  offered. 

"  Louis,"  she  said  in  a  voice  made  very  small  and 
low  by  the  crossed  arms  muffling  her  face,  "  I  am  won 
dering  whether  you  will  ever  know  what  love  is." 

"  Have  I  not  proved  that  I  love  you  ?  " 

"  I — don't  know  what  it  is  you  have  proved.  .  .  . 
We  were  engaged  to  each  other — and — and " 

"  I  thought  you  cared  nothing  for  such  conven 
tions!" 

She  began  to  cry  again,  silently. 

"  Valerie— darling " 

"  No — you  don't  understand,"  she  sobbed. 
266 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Understand  what,  dearest — dearest " 

"  That  I  thought  our  love  was  its  own  protection — 
and  mine." 

He  made  no  answer. 

She  knelt  there  silent  for  a  little  while,  then  put  her 
hand  up  appealingly  for  his  handkerchief. 

"  I  have  been  very  happy  in  loving  you,"  she 
faltered ;  "  I  have  promised  you  all  there  is  of  myself. 
And  you  have  already  had  my  best  self.  The  rest — 
whatever  it  is — whatever  happens  to  me — I  have 
promised — so  that  there  will  be  nothing  of  this  girl 
called  Valerie  West  which  is  not  all  yours — all,  all — 
•every  thought,  Louis,  every  pulse-beat — mind,  soul, 
body.  .  .  .  But  no  future  day  had  been  set;  I  had 
thought  of  none  as  yet.  Still — since  I  knew  I  was  to 
be  to  you  what  I  am  to  be,  I  have  been  very  busy  pre 
paring  for  it — mind,  soul,  my  little  earthly  possessions, 
my  personal  affairs  in  their  small  routine.  .  .  .  No 
Lride  in  your  world,  busy  with  her  trousseau,  has  been  a 
happier  dreamer  than  have  I,  Louis.  You  don't  know 
how  true  I  have  tried  to  be  to  myself,  and  to  the  truth 
as  I  understand  it — as  true  as  I  have  been  to  you  in 
thought  and  deed.  .  .  .  And,  somehow,  what  threat 
ened  —  a  moment  since  —  frightens  me,  humiliates 


She  lifted  her  head  and  looked  up  at  him  with 
dimmed  eyes : 

"  You  were  untrue  to  yourself,  Louis — to  your 
own  idea  of  truth.  And  you  were  untrue  to  me.  And 
for  the  first  time  I  look  at  you,  ashamed  and  shamed." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  very  white. 

"  Why  did  you  offer  our  love  such  an  insult  ?  "  she 
asked. 

267 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


He  made  no  answer. 

"  Was  it  because,  in  your  heart,  you  hold  a  girl 
lightly  who  promised  to  give  herself  to  you  for  your 
own  sake,  renouncing  the  marriage  vows  ?  " 

"  No !     Good  God " 

"  Then — is  it  because  you  do  not  yet  love  me 
enough?  For  I  shall  not  give  myself  to  you  until  you 
do." 

'  He  hung  his  head. 

"  I  think  that  is  it,"  she  said,  sorrowfully. 

"No.  I'm  no  good,"  he  said.  "And  that's  the 
truth,  Valerie."  A  dark  flush  stained  his  face  and  he 
turned  it  away,  sitting  there  in  silence,  his  tense  clasp 
tightening  on  the  arms  of  the  chair.  Then  he  said, 
still  not  meeting  her  eyes : 

"  Whatever  your  beliefs  are  you  practice  them ;  you 
are  true  to  your  convictions,  loyal  to  yourself.  I  am 
only  a  miserable,  rotten  specimen  of  man  who  is  true  to 
nothing — not  even  to  himself.  I'm  not  worth  your 
trouble,  Valerie." 

"  Louis !  " 

"  Well,  what  am  I  ?  "  he  demanded  in  fierce  disgust. 
"  I  have  told  you  that  I  believe  in  the  conventions — and 
I  violate  every  one  of  them.  I'm  a  spectacle  for  gods 
and  men !  "  His  face  was  stern  with  self-disgust :  he 
forced  himself  to  meet  her  gaze,  wincing  under  it;  but 
he  went  on : 

"  I  know  well  enough  that  I  deserve  your  contempt ; 
I've  acquired  plenty  of  self-contempt  already.  But  I 
do  love  you,  God  knows  how  or  in  what  manner,  but  I 
love  you,  cur  that  I  am — and  I  respect  you — oh,  more 
that  you  understand,  Valerie.  And  if  I  ask  your  mercy 
on  such  a  man  as  I  am,  it  is  not  because  I  deserve  it." 

268 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  My  mercy,  Louis  ?  " 

She  rose  to  her  knees  and  laid  both  hands  on  his 
shoulders. 

"  You  are  only  a  man,  dear — with  all  the  lovable 
faults  and  sins  and  contradictions  of  one.  But  there 
is  no  real  depravity  in  you  any  more  than  there  is  in 
me.  Only — I  think  you  are  a  little  more  selfish  than  I 
am — you  lose  self-command — "  she  blushed — "  but  that 
is  because  you  are  only  a  man  after  all.  ...  I  think, 
perhaps,  that  a  girl's  love  is  different  in  many  ways. 
Dear,  my  love  for  you  is  perfectly  honest.  You  be 
lieve  it,  don't  you?  If  for  one  moment  I  thought  it 
was  otherwise,  I'd  never  let  you  see  me  again.  If  I 
thought  for  one  moment  that  anything  spiritual  was  to 
be  gained  for  us  by  denying  that  love  to  you  or  to 
myself — or  by  living  out  life  alone  without  you,  I  have 
the  courage  to  do  it.  Do  you  doubt  it?  " 

"  No,"  he  said. 

She  sighed,  and  her  gaze  passed  from  his  and  be 
came  remote  for  a  moment,  then: 

"  I  want  to  live  my  life  with  you,"  she  said,  wist 
fully  ;  "  I  want  to  be  to  you  all  that  the  woman 
you  love  could  possibly  be.  But  to  me,  the  giving  of 
myself  to  you  is  to  be,  in  my  heart,  a  ceremony  more 
solemn  than  any  in  the  world — and  it  is  to  be  a  rite 
at  which  my  soul  shall  serve  on  its  knees,  Louis." 

"  Dearest — dearest,"  he  breathed,  "  I  know — I  un 
derstand — I  ask  your  pardon.  And  I  worship  you." 

Then  a  swift,  smiling  change  passed  over  her  face; 
and,  her  hands  still  resting  on  his  shoulders,  kneeling 
there  before  him,  she  bent  forward  and  kissed  him  on  the 
forehead. 

"  Pax,"  she  said.  "  You  are  forgiven.  Love  me 
269 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


enough,  Louis.     And  when  I  am  quite  sure  you  do,  then 
• — then — you  may  ask  me,  and  I  will  answer  you." 

"  I  love  you  now,  enough." 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then — ask,"  she  said,  faintly. 

His  lips  moved  in  a  voiceless  question,  she  could 
not  hear  him,  but  she  understood. 

"  In  a  year,  I  think,"  she  answered,  forcing  her  eyes 
to  meet  his,  but  the  delicate  rose  colour  was  playing 
over  her  cheeks  and  throat. 

"As  long  as  that?" 

"  That  is  not  long.  Besides,  perhaps  you  won't 
learn  to  love  me  enough  even  by  that  time.  Do  you 
think  you  will?  If  you  really  think  so — perhaps  in 
June—  -" 

She  watched  him  as  he  pressed  her  hands  together 
and  kissed  them ;  laughed  a  little,  shyly,  as  she  suddenly 
divined  a  new  tenderness  and  respect  in  his  eyes — some 
thing  matching  the  vague  exaltation  of  her  own  roman 
tic  dreams. 

"  I  will  wait  all  my  life  if  you  wish  it,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  do,  now." 

She  considered  him,  smiling.  "  If  you  truly  do  feel 
that  way — perhaps — perhaps  it  might  really  be  in 
June — or  in  July 

"  You  said  June." 

"  Listen  to  the  decree  of  the  great  god  Kelly !  He 
says  it  must  be  in  June,  and  he  shakes  his  thunderbolts 
and  frowns." 

"  June  !     Say  so,  Valerie." 

"  You  have  said  so." 

270 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  But  there's  no  use  in  my  saying  so  if " 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  the  great  god  totters 
on  his  pedestal  and  the  oracle  falters  and  I  see  the  mere 
man  looking  very  humbly  around  the  corner  of  the 
shrine  at  me,  whispering,  '  June,  if  you  please,  dear 
lady!"' 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that's  what  you  see  and  hear. 
Now  answer  me,  dear." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  say  ?  " 

"  June,  please." 

"  June — please,"   she  repeated,   demurely. 

"You  darling!  .  .   .  What  day?" 

"  Oh,  that's  too  early  to  decide " 

"Please,  dear!" 

"  No ;  I  don't  want  to  decide " 

"Dearest!" 

"What?" 

"  Won't  you  answer  me  ?  " 

66  If  you  make  me  answer  now,  I'll  be  tempted  to  fix 
the  first  of  April." 

"  All  right,  fix  it." 

"  It's  All  'Fool's  "day,  you  know,"  she  threatened. 
"  Probably  it  is  peculiarly  suitable  for  us.  .  .  .  Very 
well,  then,  I'U  say  it." 

She  was  laughing  when  he  caught  her  hands  and 
looked  at  her,  grave,  unsmiling.  Suddenly  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears  and  her  lip  trembled. 

"  Forgive  me,  I  meant  no  mockery,"  she  whis 
pered.  "  I  had  already  fixed  the  first  day  of  June 
for — for  the  great  change  in  our  lives.  Are  you  con 
tent?  " 

"  Yes."  And  before  she  knew  what  he  was  doing 
a  brilliant  flashed  along  her  ring  finger  and  clung 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


sparkling  to  it;  and  she  stared  at  the  gold  circlet  and 
the  gem  flashing  in  the  firelight. 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  kissed  it, 
looking  at  him  while  her  soft  lips  rested  on  the  jewel. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  moment ;  then,  still  looking  at 
him,  she  drew  the  ring  from  her  finger,  touched  it  again 
with  her  lips,  and  laid  it  gently  in  his  hand. 

"  No,  dear,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  urge  her ;  but  she  knew  he  still  believed 
that  she  would  come  to  think  as  he  thought;  and  the 
knowledge  edged  her  lips  with  tremulous  humour.  But 
her  eyes  were  very  sweet  and  tender  as  she  watched  him 
lay  away  the  ring  as  though  it  and  he  were  serenely 
biding  their  time. 

"  Such  a  funny  boy,"  she  said,  "  and  such  a  dear 
one.  He  will  never,  never  grow  up,  will  he?  " 

"  Such  an  idiot,  you  mean,"  he  said,  drawing  her 
into  the  big  chair  beside  him. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that,  too,"  she  said,  impudently,  nose 
in  the  air.  "  Because,  if  I  were  you,  Louis,  I  wouldn't 
waste  any  more  energy  in  worrying  about  a  girl  who 
is  perfectly  able  to  take  care  of  htrself,  but  transfer  it 
to  a  boy  who  apparently  is  not." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  about  your  painting.  Dear,  you've  got 
it  into  that  obstinate  head  of  yours  that  there's  some 
thing  lacking  in  your  pictures,  and  there  isn't." 

"  Oh,  Valerie !     You  know  there  is !  " 

"  No,  no,  no !  There  isn't  anything  lacking  in 
them.  They're  all  of  you,  Louis — every  bit  of  you — 
as  far  as  you  have  lived." 

"What!" 

"  Certainly.  As  far  as  you  have  lived.  Now  live 
272 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


a  little  more,  and  let  more  things  come  into  your  life. 
You  can't  paint  what  isn't  in  you ;  and  there's  nothing 
in  you  except  what  you  get  out  of  life." 

She  laid  her  soft  cheek  against  his. 

"  Get  a  little  real  love  out  of  life,  Louis ;  a  little 
real  love.  Then  surely,  surely  your  canvases  can  not 
disguise  that  you  know  what  life  means  to  us  all.  Love 
nobly ;  and  the  world  will  not  doubt  that  love  is  noble ; 
love  mercifully ;  and  the  world  will  understand  mercy. 
For  I  believe  that  what  you  are  must  show  in  your 
work,  dear. 

"  Until  now  the  world  has  seen  in  your  work  only 
the  cold  splendour,  or  dreamy  glamour,  or  the  un 
troubled  sweetness  and  brilliancy  of  passionless  romance. 
1  love  your  work.  It  is  happiness  to  look  at  it ;  it 
thrills,  bewitches,  enthralls !  .  .  .  Dear,  forgive  me  if 
in  it  I  have  not  yet  found  a  deeper  inspiration.  .  .  . 
And  that  inspiration,  to  be  there,  must  be  first  in  you, 
my  darling — born  of  a  wider  interest  in  your  fellow 
men,  a  little  tenderness  for  friends — a  more  generous 
experience  and  more  real  sympathy  with  humanity — 
and  perhaps  you  may  think  it  out  of  place  for 
me  to  say  it — but — a  deeper,  truer,  spiritual  convic 
tion. 

"  Do  you  think  it  strange  of  me  to  have  such  con 
victions?  I  can't  escape  them.  Those  who  are  merci 
ful,  those  who  are  kind,  to  me  are  Christ-like.  Nothing 
else  matters.  But  to  be  kind  is  to  be  first  of  all  in 
terested  in  the  happiness  of  others.  And  you  care 
nothing  for  people.  You  must  care,  Louis ! 

"  And,  somehow,  you  who  are,  at  heart,  good  and 
kind  and  merciful,  have  not  really  awakened  real  love 
in  many  of  those  about  you.  For  one  thing  your  work 

273 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


has  absorbed  you.     But  if,  at  the  same  time,  you  could 
pay  a  little  more  attention  to  human  beings 

"  Valerie !  "  he  said  in  astonishment,  "  I  have  plenty 
of  friends.  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  care  nothing  for 
them?" 

"  How  much  do  you  care,  Louis  ?  " 

"  Why,  I — '  He  fell  silent,  troubled  gaze  search 
ing  hers. 

She  smiled :  "  Take  Sam,  for  example.  The  boy 
adores  you.  He's  a  rotten  painter,  I  know — and  you 
don't  even  pretend  to  an  interest  in  what  he  does  be 
cause  you  are  too  honest  to  praise  it.  But,  Louis,  he's 
a  lovable  fellow — and  he  does  the  best  that's  in  him. 
You  needn't  pretend  to  care  for  what  he  does — but  if 
you  could  show  that  you  do  care  for  and  respect  the 
effort " 

"  I  do,  Valerie— when  I  think  about  it !  " 

"  Then  think  about  it ;  and  let  Sam  know  that  you 
think  about  his  efforts  and  himself.  And  do  the  same 
for  Harry  Annan.  He's  a  worse  painter  than  Sam — 
but  do  you  think  he  doesn't  know  it?  Don't  you 
realise  what  a  lot  of  heartache  the  monkey-shines  of 
those  two  boys  conceal?" 

"  I  am  fond  of  them,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  I  like 
people,  even  if  I  don't  show  it ' 

"  Ah,  Louis  !  Louis !  That  is  the  world's  incurable 
hurt — the  silence  that  replies  to  its  perplexity — the 
wistful  appeal  that  remains  unanswered.  .  .  .  And 
many,  many  vex  God  with  the  desolation  of  their  end 
less  importunities  and  complaints  when  a  look,  a  word, 
a  touch  from  a  human  being  would  relieve  them  of  the 
heaviest  of  all  burdens — a  sad  heart's  solitude.55 

He  put  his  arm  areund  her,  impulsively : 
274 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  You  little  angel,"  he  said,  tenderly. 

"  No — only  a  human  girl  who  has  learned  what  sol 
itude  can  mean." 

"  I  shall  make  you  forget  the  past,"  he  said. 

"  No,  dear — for  that  might  make  me  less  kind." 
She  put  her  lips  against  his  cheek,  thoughtfully :  "  And 
— I  think — that  you  are  going  to  need  all  the  tender 
ness  in  me — some  day,  Louis — as  I  need  all  of  yours. 
.  .  .  We  shall  have  much  to  learn — after  the  great 
change.  .  .  .  And  much  to  endure.  And  I  think  we 
will  need  all  the  kindness  that  we  can  give  each  other — 
and  all  that  the  world  can  spare  us." 


CHAPTER    X 

IT  was  slowly  becoming  evident  to  Neville  that 
Valerie's  was  the  stronger  character — not  through  any 
genius  for  tenacity  nor  on  account  of  any  domineering 
instinct — but  because,  mistaken  or  otherwise  in  her  eth 
ical  reasoning,  she  was  consistent,  true  to  her  belief,  and 
had  the  courage  to  live  up  to  it.  And  this  made  her 
convictions  almost  unassailable. 

Slavery  to  established  custom  of  any  kind  she  smil 
ingly  disdained,  refusing  to  submit  to  restrictions  which 
centuries  of  social  usage  had  established,  when  such 
social  restrictions  and  limitations  hampered  or  annoyed 
her. 

Made  conscious  by  the  very  conventions  designed  to 
safeguard  unconsciousness ;  made  wise  by  the  unwisdom 
of  a  civilisation  which  required  ignorance  of  innocence, 
she  had  as  yet  lost  none  of  her  sweetness  and  confidence 
in  herself  and  in  a  world  which  she  considered  a  friendly 
one  at  best  and,  at  worst,  more  silly  than  vicious. 

Her  life,  the  experience  of  a  lonely  girlhood  in  the 
world,  wide  and  varied  reading,  unwise  and  otherwise, 
and  an  intelligence  which  needed  only  experience  and 
training,  had  hastened  to  a  premature  maturity  her 
impatience  with  the  faults  of  civilisation.  And  in  the 
honest  revolt  of  youth,  she  forgot  that  what  she  re 
jected  was,  after  all,  civilisation  itself,  and  that  as  yet 
there  had  been  offered  no  acceptable  substitute  for  its 
faulty  codification. 

276 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


To  do  one's  best  was  to  be  fearlessly  true  to  one's 
convictions  and  let  God  judge;  that  was  her  only  creed. 
And  from  her  point  of  view  humanity  needed  no  other. 

So  she  went  about  the  pleasure  and  happiness  of 
living  with  a  light  heart  and  a  healthy  interest,  not 
doubting  that  all  was  right  between  her  and  the  world, 
and  that  the  status  quo  must  endure. 

And  endless  misunderstandings  ensued  between  her 
and  the  man  she  loved.  She  was  a  very  busy  business 
girl  and  he  objected.  She  went  about  to  theatres  and 
parties  and  dinners  and  concerts  with  other  men ;  and 
Neville  didn't  like  it.  Penrhyn  Cardeman  met  her  at 
a  theatrical  supper  and  asked  her  to  be  one  of  his  guests 
on  his  big  yacht,  the  Mohave,  fitted  out  for  the 
Azores.  There  were  twenty  in  the  party,  and  she  would 
have  gone  had  not  Neville  objected  angrily. 

It  was  not  his  objection  but  his  irritation  that  con 
fused  her.  She  could  discover  no  reason  for  it. 

"  It  can't  be  that  you  don't  trust  me,"  she  said  to 
him,  "  so  it  must  be  that  you're  lonely  without  me,  even 
when  you  go  to  spend  two  weeks  with  your  parents.  I 
don't  mind  not  going  if  you  don't  wish  me  to,  Louis, 
and  I'll  stay  here  in  town  while  you  visit  your  father 
and  mother,  but  it  seems  a  little  bit  odd  of  you  not  to 
let  me  go  when  I  can  be  of  no  earthly  use  to  you." 

Her  gentleness  with  him,  and  her  sweet  way  of 
reasoning  made  him  ashamed. 

"  It's  the  crowd  that's  going,  Valerie — Cardemon, 
Querida,  Marianne  Valdez — where  did  you  meet  her, 
anyway?  " 

"  In  her  dressing  room  at  the  Opera.  She's  per 
fectly  sweet.  Isn't  she  all  right?  " 

"  She's  Cardemon's  mistress,"  he  said,  bluntly. 
277 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


A  painful  colour  flushed  her  face  and  neck ;  and  at 
the  same  instant  he  realised  what  he  had  said. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  while;  he  went  on  with  his 
painting;  she,  standing  once  more  for  the  full-length 
portrait,  resumed  her  pose  in  silence. 

After  a  while  she  heard  his  brushes  clatter  to  the 
floor,  saw  him  leave  his  easel,  was  aware  that  he  was 
coming  toward  her.  And  the  next  moment  he  had 
dropped  at  her  feet,  kneeling  there,  one  arm  tightening 
around  her  knees,  his  head  pressed  close. 

Listlessly  she  looked  down  at  him,  dropped  one 
slim  hand  on  his  shoulder,  considering  him. 

"  The  curious  part  of  it  is,"  she  said,  "  that  all  the 
scorn  in  your  voice  was  for  Marianne  Valdez  and  none 
for  Penrhyn  Cardemon." 

He  said  nothing. 

"  Such  a  queer,  topsy-turvy  world,"  she  sighed, 
letting  her  hand  wander  from  his  shoulder  to  his 
thick,  short  hair.  She  caressed  his  forehead  thought 
fully. 

"  I  suppose  some  man  will  say  that  of  me  some  day. 
.  .  .  But  that  is  a  little  matter — compared  to  making 
life  happy  for  you.  .  .  .  To  be  your  mistress  could 
never  make  me  unhappy." 

"  To  be  your  husband — and  to  put  an  end  to  all 
these  damnable  doubts  and  misgivings  and  cross-pur 
poses  would  make  me  happy  all  my  life ! "  he  burst  out 
with  a  violence  that  startled  her. 

"  Hush,  Louis.  We  must  not  begin  that  hopeless 
argument  again." 

"  Valerie !     Valerie !     You  are  breaking  my  heart !  " 

"  Hush,  dear.     You  know  I  am  not." 

She  looked  down  at  him;  her  lip  was  trembling. 
278 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Suddenly  she  slid  down  to  the  floor  and  knelt  there  con 
fronting  him,  her  arms  around  him. 

"  Dearer  than  all  the  world  and  heaven ! — do  you 
think  that  I  am  breaking  your  heart?  You  If  now  I  am 
not.  You  know  what  I  am  doing  for  your  sake,  for 
your  family's  sake,  for  my  own.  I  am  only  giving  you 
a  love  that  can  cause  them  no  pain,  bring  no  regret  to 
you.  Take  it,  then,  and  kiss  me." 

But  the  days  were  full  of  little  scenes  like  this — of 
earnest,  fiery  discussions,  of  passionate  arguments,  of 
flashes  of  temper  ending  in  tears  and  heavenly  recon 
ciliation. 

He  had  gone  for  two  weeks  to  visit  his  father  and 
mother  at  their  summer  home  near  Portsmouth,  and 
before  he  went  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  told  her  how 
ashamed  he  was  of  his  bad  temper  at  the  idea  of  her 
going  on  the  Mohave,  and  said  that  she  might  go ;  that 
he  did  trust  her  anywhere,  and  that  he  was  trying  to 
learn  to  concede  to  her  the  same  liberty  of  action  and 
of  choice  that  any  man  enjoyed. 

But  she  convinced  him  very  sweetly  that  she  really 
had  no  desire  to  go,  and  sent  him  off  to  Spindrift  House 
happy,  and  madly  in  love ;  which  resulted  in  two  letters 
a  day  from  him,  and  in  her  passing  long  evenings  in 
confidential  duets  with  Rita  Tevis. 

Rita  had  taken  the  bedroom  next  to  Valerie's,  and 
together  they  had  added  the  luxury  of  a  tiny  living 
room  to  the  suite. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  either  had  ever  had  any 
place  in  which  to  receive  anybody;  and  now,  delighted 
to  be  able  to  ask  people,  they  let  it  be  known  that  their 
friends  could  have  tea  with  them. 

279 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Ogilvy  and  Annan  had  promptly  availed  themselves. 

"  This  is  exceedingly  grand,"  said  Ogilvy,  examin 
ing  everything  in  a  tour  around  the  pretty  little  sitting 
room.  "  We  can  have  all  kinds  of  a  rough  house 
now."  And  he  got  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  in 
the  middle  of  the  rug  and  very  gravely  turned  a  somer 
sault. 

"  Sam  !  Behave  !  Or  I'll  set  my  parrot  on  you  !  " 
exclaimed  Valerie. 

Ogilvy  sat  up  and  inspected  the  parrot. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  I've  seen  that 
parrot  somewhere." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  friend — unless  you've  been  in 
my  bedroom." 

Ogilvy  got  up,  dusted  his  trowsers,  and  walked  over 
to  the  parrot. 

"  Well  it  looks  like  a  bird  I  used  to  know — I — it 
certainly  resembles —  He  hesitated,  then  addressing 
the  bird: 

"  Hello,  Leparello — you  old  scoundrel !  "  he  said, 
cautiously. 

"  Forget  it !  "  muttered  the  bird,  cocking  his  head 
and  lifting  first  one  slate-coloured  claw  from  his  perch, 
then  the  other ; — "  forget  it !  Help  !  Oh,  very  well. 
God  bless  the  ladies  !  " 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  ever  before  see  my  par 
rot  ?  "  asked  Valerie,  astonished.  Ogilvy  appeared  to 
be  a  little  out  of  countenance,  too. 

"  Oh,  I  really  don't  remember  exactly  where  I  did 
see  him,"  he  tried  to  explain ;  and  nobody  believed  him. 

"  Sam  !     Answer  me !  " 

"  Well,  where  did  you  get  him  ?  " 

"  Jose  Querida  gave  Leparello  to  me." 
280 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Annan  and  Ogilvy  exchanged  the  briefest  glance — 
a  perfectly  blank  glance. 

"  It  probably  isn't  the  same  bird,"  said  Ogilvy, 
carelessly.  "  There  are  plenty  of  parrots  that  talk — 
plenty  of  'em  named  Leparello,  probably." 

"  Sam,  how  can  you  be  so  untruthful !  Rita,  hold 
him  tightly  while  I  pull  his  ears ! " 

It  was  a  form  of  admonition  peculiarly  distasteful 
to  Ogilvy,  and  he  made  a  vain  effort  to  escape. 

"  Now,  Sam,  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  noth 
ing  but  the  truth !  Quick,  or  I'll  tweak !  " 

"  All  right,  then,"  he  said,  maliciously,  "  Querida's 
got  relatives  in  Oporto  who  send  him  these  kind  of  par 
rots  occasionally.  He  names  'em  all  Leparello,  teaches 
'em  all  the  same  jargon,  and — gives  'em  to  girls!" 

"  How  funny,"  said  Valerie.  She  looked  at  Sam, 
aware  of  something  else  in  his  grin,  and  gave  an  un 
certain  little  laugh. 

He  sat  down,  rubbing  his  ear-lobes,  the  malicious 
grin  still  lingering  on  his  countenance.  What  he  had 
not  told  her  was  that  Querida's  volcanically  irregular 
affairs  of  the  heart  always  ended  with  the  gift  of  an 
Oporto  parrot.  Marianne  Valdez  owned  one.  So  did 
Mazie  Gray. 

His  cynical  gaze  rested  on  Valerie  reflectively.  He 
had  heard  plenty  of  rumours  and  whispers  concerning 
her;  and  never  believed  any  of  them.  He  could  not 
believe  now  that  the  gift  of  this  crimson,  green  and 
sky-blue  creature  signified  anything.  Yet  Querida  had 
known  her  as  long  as  anybody  except  Neville. 

"  When  did  he  give  you  this  parrot  ?  "  he  asked, 
carelessly. 

"  Oh,  one  day  just  before  I  was  going  to  Atlantic 
10  281 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


City.  He  was  coming  down,  too,  to  stay  a  fortnight 
while  I  was  there,  and  come  back  with  me ;  and  he  said 
that  he  had  intended  to  give  the  parrot  to  me  after  our 
return,  but  that  he  might  as  well  give  it  to  me  before 
I  went." 

"  I  see,"  said  OgHvy,  thoughtfully.  A  few  mo 
ments  later,  as  he  and  Annan  were  leaving  the  house, 
he  said: 

"  It  looks  to  me  as  though  our  friend,  Jose,  had 
taken  too  much  for  granted." 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  nodded  Annan,  smiling  unpleas 
antly. 

"  Too  sure  of  conquest,"  added  Ogilvy.  "  Got  the 
frozen  mitt,  didn't  he?" 

"  And  the  Grand  Cordon  of  the  double  cross." 

"  And  the  hot  end  of  the  poker;  yes?  " 

"  Sure ;  and  it's  still  sizzling."  Ogilvy  cast  a  glee 
ful  glance  back  at  the  house: 

"  Fine  little  girl.     All  white.     Yes?     No?  " 

"  All  white,"  nodded  Annan.  ..."  And  Neville 
isn't  that  kind  of  a  man,  anyway." 

Ogilvy  said :  "  So  you  think  so,  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  He's  crazy  about  her,  and  she  isn't 
taking  Sundays  out  if  it's  his  day  in.  ...  Only,  what's 
the  use?" 

"  No  use.  ...  I  guess  Kelly  Neville  has  seen  as 
many  artists  who've  married  their  models  as  we  have. 
Besides,  his  people  are  frightful  snobs." 

Annan,  walking  along  briskly,  swung  his  stick  vig 
orously  : 

"  She's  a  sweet  little  thing,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  it.  It's  going  to  be  hard  for  her.  She 
can't  stand  for  a  mutt — and  it's  the  only  sort  that  will 

282 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


marry  her.  ...  I  don't  know — she's  a  healthy  kind  of 
girl — but  God  help  her  if  she  ever  really  falls  in  love 
with  one  of  our  sort." 

"  I  think  she's  done  it,"  said  Annan. 

"Kelly!" 

"Doesn't  it  look  like  it?" 

"  Oh,  it  will  wear  off  without  any  harm  to  either 
of  them.  That  little  girl  is  smart,  all  right;  she'll 
never  waste  an  evening  screaming  for  the  moon.  And 
Kelly  Neville  is — is  Kelly  Neville — a  dear  fellow,  so 
utterly  absorbed  in  the  career  of  a  brilliant  and  intel 
ligent  young  artist  named  Louis  Neville,  that  if  the 
entire  earth  blew  up  he'd  begin  a  new  canvas  the  week 
after.  .  .  .  Not  that  I  think  him  cold-hearted — no,  not 
even  selfish  as  that  little  bounder  Allaire  says — but  he's 
a  man  who  has  never  yet  had  time  to  spare." 

"  They're  the  most  hopeless,"  observed  Annan — 
"  the  men  who  haven't  time  to  spare.  Because  it  takes 
only  a  moment  to  say,  '  Hello,  old  man !  How  in  hell 
are  you  ?  '  It  takes  only  a  moment  to  put  yourself,  men 
tally,  in  some  less  lucky  man's  shoes ;  and  be  friendly 
and  sorry  and  interested." 

"  He's  a  pretty  decent  sort,"  murmured  Ogilvy. 
"  Anyway,  that  Valerie  child  is  safe  enough  in  tem 
porarily  adoring  Kelly  Neville." 

The  "  Valerie  child,"  in  a  loose,  rose-silk  peignoir, 
cross-legged  on  her  bed,  was  sewing  industriously  on 
her  week's  mending.  Rita,  in  dishabille,  lay  across  the 
foot  of  the  bed  nibbling  bonbons  and  reading  the  even 
ing  paper. 

They  had  dined  in  their  living  room,  a  chafing  dish 
aiding.  Afterward  Valerie  went  over  her  weekly  ac- 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


counts  and  had  now  taken  up  her  regular  mending ;  and 
there  she  sat,  sewing  away,  and  singing  in  her  clear, 
young  voice,  the  old  madrigal : 

"Let  us  dry  the  starting  tear 
For  the  hours  are  surely  fleeting 

And  the  sad  sundown  is  near. 
All  must  sip  the  cup  of  sorrow, 
I  to-day,  and  thou  to-morrow! 

This  the  end  of  every  song, 

Ding-dongl     Ding-dong! 

Yet  until  the  shadows  fall 

Over  one  and  over  all, 

Sing  a  merry  madrigal!  " 

Rita,  nibbling  a  chocolate,  glanced  up : 

"  That's  a  gay  little  creed,"  she  observed. 

"  Of  course.     It's  the  only  creed." 

Rita  shrugged  and  Valerie  went  on  blithely  singing 
and  sewing. 

"  Plow  long  has  that  young  man  of  yours  been 
away  ?  "  inquired  Rita,  looking  up  again. 

"Thirteen  days." 

"  Oh.     Are  you  sure  it  isn't  fourteen  ?  " 

*'  Perfectly."  Then  the  sarcasm  struck  her,  and  she 
looked  around  at  Rita  and  laughed: 

"  Of  course  I  count  the  days,"  she  said,  conscious  of 
the  soft  colour  mounting  to  her  cheeks. 

Rita  sat  up  and,  tucking  a  pillow  under  her  shoul 
ders,  leaned  back  against  the  foot-board  of  the  bed, 
kicking  the  newspaper  to  the  floor.  "  Do  you  know," 
she  said,  "  that  you  have  come  pretty  close  to  falling  in 
love  with  Kelly  Neville  ?  " 

284 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Valerie's  lips  trembled  on  the  edge  of  a  smile  as  she 
bent  lower  over  her  sewing,  but  she  made  no  reply. 

"  I  should  say,"  continued  Rita,  "  that  it  was  about 
time  for  you  to  pick  up  your  skirts  and  run  for  it." 

Still  Valerie  sewed  on  in  silence. 

"  Valerie !  " 

"What?" 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  say  something !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  say,  dear?  "  asked  the 
girl,  laughing. 

"  That  you  are  710*  in  danger  of  making  a  silly 
ninny  of  yourself  over  Kelly  Neville." 

"  Oh,  I'll  say  that  very  cheerfully " 

"Valerie!" 

The  girl  looked  at  her,  calmly  amused.  Then  she 
Said: 

"  I  might  as  well  tell  you.  I  am  head  over  heels 
in  love  with  him.  You  knew  it,  anyway,  Rita. 
You've  known  it — oh,  I  don't  know  how  long — but 
you've  known  it.  Haven't  you  ?  " 

Rita  thought  a  moment :  "  Yes,  I  have  known  it. 
.  .  .  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"Do?" 

"  Yes ;  what  do  you  intend  to  do  about  this 
matter?" 

"  Love  him,"  said  Valerie.    "  What  else  can  I  do?  " 

"  You  could  try  not  to." 

"  I  don't  want  to." 

"  You  had  better." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,"  said  Rita,  deliberately,  "  if  you  really 
love  him  you'll  either  become  his  wife  or  his  mistress; 
and  it's  a  pretty  rotten  choice  either  way." 

285 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Valerie  blushed  scarlet; 

"Rotten — choice?" 

"  Certainly.  You  know  perfectly  well  what  your 
position  would  be  when  his  family  and  his  friends 
learned  that  he'd  married  his  model.  No  girl  of  any 
spirit  would  endure  it — no  matter  how  affable  his 
friends  might  perhaps  pretend  to  be.  No  girl  of  any 
sense  would  ever  put  herself  in  such  a  false  position. 
...  I  tell  you,  Valerie,  it's  only  the  exceptional  man 
who'll  stand  by  you.  No  doubt  Louis  Neville  would. 
But  it  would  cost  him  every  friend  he  has — and  prob 
ably  the  respect  of  his  parents.  And  that  means  mis 
ery  for  you  both — because  he  couldn't  conceal  from 
you  what  marrying  you  was  co'sting  him " 


'Valerie's  lips  trembled  on  the  edge  of  a  smile  as  she  bent  lower  over 
her  sewing." 

286 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"Rita!" 
"  Yes." 

"  There  is  no  use  telling  me  all  this.  I  know  it. 
He  knows  I  know  it.  I  am  not  going  to  marry  him." 

After  a  silence  Rita  said,  slowly :  "  Did  he  ask 
you  to?" 

Valerie  looked  down,  passed  her  needle  through  the 
hem  once,  twice. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  softly,  "  he  asked  me." 

"  And — you  refused?  " 

"  Yes." 

Rita  said :  "  I  like  Kelly  Neville  .  .  .  and  I  love  you 
better,  dear.  But  it's  not  best  for  you  to  marry  him. 
.  .  .  Life  isn't  a  very  sentimental  affair — not  nearly 
as  silly  a  matter  as  poets  and  painters  and  dramas  and 
novels  pretend  it  is.  Love  really  plays  a  very  minor 
part  in  life.  Don't  you  know  it?  " 

"  Yes.  I  lived  twenty  years  without  it,"  said  Va 
lerie,  demurely,  yet  in  her  smile  Rita  divined  the  hid 
den  tragedy.  And  she  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her 
impulsively. 

"  Let's  swear  celibacy,"  she  said,  "  and  live  out  our 
lives  together  in  single  blessedness !  Will  you  ?  We 
^an  have  a  perfectly  good  time  until  the  undertaker 
knocks." 

"  I  hope  he  won't  knock  for  a  long  while,"  said 
Valerie,  with  a  slight  shiver.  "  There's  so  much  I  want 
to  see  first." 

"  You  shall.  We'll  see  everything  together.  We'll 
work  hard,  live  frugally  if  you  say  so,  cut  out  all  frills 
and  nonsense,  and  save  and  save  until,  we  have  enough 
to  retire  on  respectably.  And  then,  like  two  nice  old 

ladies,  we'll  start  out  to  see  the  world " 

287 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Oh,  Rita !  I  don't  want  to  see  it  when  I'm  too 
old!" 

"  You'll  enjoy  it  more " 

"  Rita  !  How  ridiculous  !  You've  seen  more  of  the 
world  than  I  have,  anyway.  It's  all  very  well  for  you 
to  say  wait  till  I'm  an  old  maid;  but  you've  been  to 
Paris — haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Rita.  There  was  a  slight  colour  in  her 
face. 

"  Well,  then !  Why  must  I  wait  until  I'm  a  dowdy 
old  frump  before  I  go?  Why  should  you  and  I  not  be 
as  happy  as  we  can  afford  to  be  while  we're  young  and 
attractive  and  unspoiled?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  be  as  happy  as  you  can  afford  to 
be,  Valerie.  .  .  .  But  you  can't  afford  to  fall  in 
love." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  it  will  make  you  miserable." 

"  But  it  doesn't." 

"  It  will  if  it  is— love." 

"  It  is,  Rita,"  said  the  girl,  smiling  out  of  her  dark 
eyes — deep  brown  wells  of  truth  that  the  other  gazed 
into  and  saw  a  young  soul  there,  fearless  and  doomed. 

"  Valerie,"  she  said,  shivering,  "  you  won't  do — that 
—will  you?" 

"  Dear,  I  cannot  marry  him,  and  I  love  him.  What 
else  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  then — then  you'd  better  marry  him !  "  stam 
mered  Rita,  frightened.  "  It's  better  for  you !  It's 
better " 

"  For  me?     Yes,  but  how  about  him?  " 

"  What  do  you  care  about  him !  "  burst  out  Rita, 
almost  incoherent  in  her  fright  and  anger.  "  He's  a 

288 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


man ;  he  can  take  care  of  himself.  Don't  think  of  him, 
It  isn't  your  business  to  consider  him.  If  he  wants  to 
marry  you  it's  his  concern  after  all.  Let  him  do  it ! 
Marry  him  and  let  him  fight  it  out  with  his  friends ! 
After  all  what  does  a  man  give  a  girl  that  compares 
with  what  she  gives  him?  Men — men — "  she  stam 
mered — "  they're  all  alike  in  the  depths  of  their  own 
hearts.  We  are  incidents  to  them — no  matter  how  they 
say  they  love  us.  They  can't  love  as  we  do.  They're 
not  made  for  it!  We  are  part  of  the  game  to  them; 
they  are  the  whole  game  to  us ;  we  are,  at  best,  an  im 
portant  episode  in  their  careers;  they  are  our  whole 
careers.  Oh,  Valerie  1  Valerie  !  listen  to  me,  child !  That 
man  could  go  on  living  and  painting  and  eating  and 
drinking  and  sleeping  and  getting  up  to  dress  and  going 
to  bed  to  sleep,  if  you  lay  dead  in  your  grave.  But 
if  you  loved  him,  and  were  his  wife — or  God  forgive 
me! — his  mistress,  the  day  he  died  you  would  die, 
though  your  body  might  live  on.  I  know — /  know, 
Valerie.  Death — whether  it  be  his  body  or  his  love,  ends 
all  for  the  woman  who  really  loves  him.  Woman's  loss 
is  eternal.  But  man's  loss  is  only  temporary — he  is 
made  that  way,  fashioned  so.  Now  I  tell  you  the  ex 
change  is  not  fair — it  has  never  been  fair — never  will  be, 
never  can  be.  And  I  warn  you  not  to  give  this  man  the 
fresliness  of  your  youth,  the  happy  years  of  your  life, 
your  innocence,  the  devotion  which  he  will  transmute 
into  passion  with  his  accursed  magic !  I  warn  you  not 
to  forsake  the  tranquillity  of  ignorance,  the  blessed  im 
munity  from  that  devil's  paradise  that  you  are  already 

gazing  into " 

"Rita!     Rita!     What  are  you  saying?" 
"  I  scarcely  know,  child.  .  I  am  trying  to  save  you 
289 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


from  lifelong  unhappiness — trying  to  tell  you  that — 
that  men  are  not  worth  it — 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

There  was  a  silence,  then  Rita,  very  pale  and  quiet, 
leaned  forward,  resting  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and 
framing  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  I  had  my  lesson,"  she  said. 

"  You !  Oh,  my  darling — forgive  me !  I  did  not 
know " 

Rita  suffered  herself  to  be  drawn  into  the  younger 
girl's  impulsive  embrace;  they  both  cried  a  little,  arms 
around  each  other,  faltering  out  question  and  answer  in 
unsteady  whispers: 

"  Were  you  married,  dearest?  " 

"No." 

"  Oh — I  am  so  sorry,  dear 

"  So  am  I.  ...  Do  you  blame  me  for  thinking 
about  men  as  I  do  think?  " 

"Didn't  you  love— him?  " 

"  I  thought  I  did.  ...  I  was  too  young  to  know. 
...  It  doesn't  matter  now 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not.  You  made  a  ghastly  mis 
take,  but  it's  no  more  shame  to  you  than  it  is  to  him. 
Besides,  you  thought  you  loved  him." 

"  He  could  have  made  me.  I  was  young  enough. 
.  .  .  But  he  let  me  see  how  absolutely  wicked  he  was. 
.  .  .  And  then  it  was  too  late  to  ever  love  him." 

"  O  Rita,  Rita ! — then  you  haven't  ever  even  had 
the  happiness  of  loving?  Have  you?  " 

Rita  did  not  answer. 

"  Have  you,  darling?  " 

Then  Rita  broke  down  and  laid  her  head  on  Va 
lerie's  knees,  crying  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 

290 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"That's  the  terrible  part  of  it,"  she  sobbed — "I 
really  do  love  a  man,  now.  .  .  .Not  that  -first  one  .  .  . 
and  there's  nothing  to  do  about  it — nothing,  Valerie, 
nothing — because  even  if  he  asked  me  to  marry  him  I 
can't,  now " 

"  Because  you " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  if  you  had  not " 

"  God  knows  what  I  would  do,"  sobbed  Rita,  "  I 
love  him  so,  Valerie — I  love  him  so !  " 

The  younger  girl  looked  down  at  the  blond  head 
lying  on  her  knees — looked  at  the  pretty  tear-stained 
face  gleaming  through  the  fingers — looked  and  won 
dered  over  the  philosophy  broken  down  beside  the  bowed 
head  and  breaking  heart. 

Terrible  her  plight;  with  or  without  benefit  of 
clergy  she  dared  not  give  herself.  Love  was  no  hap 
piness  to  her,  no  confidence,  no  sacrifice — only  a  dread 
ful  mockery — a  thing  that  fettered,  paralysed,  terrified. 

"  Does  he  love  you?  "  whispered  Valerie. 

"  No— I  think  not." 

"  If  he  did  he  would  forgive." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"  Of  course.  Love  pardons  everything,"  said  the 
girl  in  surprise. 

"  Yes.     But  never  forgets." 


That  was  the  first  confidence  that  ever  had  passed 
between  Valerie  West  and  Rita  Tevis.  And  after  it, 
Rita,  apparently  forgetting  her  own  philosophical  col 
lapse,  never  ceased  to  urge  upon  Valerie  the  wisdom,  the 
absolute  necessity  of  self-preservation  in  considering  her 
future  relations  with  Louis  Neville.  But,  like  Neville's 

291 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


logic,  Rita's  failed  before  the  innocent  simplicity  of 
the  creed  which  Valerie  had  embraced.  Valerie  was 
willing  that  their  relations  should  remain  indefinitely 
as  they  were  if  the  little  gods  of  convention  were  to  be 
considered;  she  had  the  courage  to  sever  all  relations 
with  the  man  she  loved  if  anybody  could  convince  her 
that  it  was  better  for  Neville.  Marry  him  she  would 
not,  because  she  believed  it  meant  inevitable  unhappiness 
for  him.  But  she  was  not  afraid  to  lay  her  ringless 
hands  in  his  for  ever. 

Querida  called  on  them  and  was  very  agreeable  and 
lively  and  fascinating ;  and  when  he  went  away  Valerie 
asked  him  to  come  again.  He  did ;  and  again  after  that. 
She  and  Rita  dined  with  him  once  or  twice ;  and  things 
gradually  slipped  back  to  their  old  footing;  and  Que 
rida  remained  on  his  best  behaviour. 

Neville  had  prolonged  the  visit  to  the  parental  roof. 
He  did  not  explain  to  her  why,  but  the  reason  was  that 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  tell  his  parents  that  he 
wished  to  marry  and  to  find  out  once  and  for  all  what 
their  attitudes  would  be  toward  such  a  girl  as  Valerie 
West.  But  he  had  not  yet  found  courage  to  do  it,  and 
he  was  lingering  on,  trying  to  find  it  and  the  proper 
moment  to  employ  it. 

His  father  was  a  gentleman  so  utterly  devoid  of 
imagination  that  he  had  never  even  ventured  into  busi 
ness,  but  had  been  emotionlessly  content  to  marry  and 
live  upon  an  income  sufficient  to  maintain  the  material 
and  intellectual  traditions  of  the  house  of  Neville. 

Tall,  transparently  pale,  negative  in  character,  he 
had  made  it  a  life  object  to  get  through  life  without 
increasing  the  number  of  his  acquaintances — legacies  in 
the  second  generation  left  him  by  his  father,  whose 

292 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


father  before  him  had  left  the   grandfathers   of  these 
friends  as  legacies  to  his  son. 

It  was  a  pallid  and  limited  society  that  Henry 
Neville  and  his  wife  frequented — a  coterie  of  elderly,  in 
tellectual  people,  and  their  prematurely  dried-out  off 
spring.  And  intellectual  in-breeding  was  thinning  it  to 
attenuation — to  a  bloodless  meagreness  in  which  they, 
who  composed  it,  conceived  a  mournful  pride. 

Old  New  Yorkers  all,  knowing  no  other  city,  no 
other  bourne  north  of  Tenth  Street  or  west  of 
Chelsea — silent,  serene,  drab-toned  people,  whose  draw 
ing-rooms  were  musty  with  what  had  been  fra 
grance  once,  whose  science,  religion,  interests,  desires 
were  the  beliefs,  interests  and  emotions  of  a  cen 
tury  ago,  their  colourless  existence  and  passive  snob 
bishness  affronted  nobody  who  did  not  come  seeking 
affront. 

To  them  Theodore  Thomas  had  been  the  last  con 
ductor;  his  orchestra  the  last  musical  expression  fit  for 
a  cultivated  society ;  the  Academy  of  Music  remained 
their  last  symphonic  temple,  Wallack's  the  last  refuge 
of  a  drama  now  dead  for  ever. 

Delmonico's  had  been  their  northern  limit,  Stuyve- 
sant  Square  their  eastern,  old  Trinity  their  southern, 
and  their  western,  Chelsea.  Outside  there  was  noth 
ing.  The  blatancy  and  gilt  of  the  million-voiced  me 
tropolis  fell  on  closed  eyes,  and  on  ears  attuned  only  to 
the  murmurs  of  the  past.  They  lived  in  their  ancient 
houses  and  went  abroad  and  summered  in  some  simple 
old-time  hamlet  hallowed  by  the  headstones  of  their 
grandsires,  and  existed  as  meaninglessly  and  blameless 
ly  as  the  old  catalpa  trees  spreading  above  their  door- 
yards. 

295 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


And  into  this  narrow  circle  Louis  Neville  and  his 
sister  Lily  had  been  born. 

It  had  been  a  shock  to  her  parents  when  Lily  mar 
ried  Gordon  Collis,  a  mining  engineer  from  Denver.  She 
came  to  see  them  with  her  husband  every  year;  Collis 
loved  her  enough  to  endure  it. 

As  for  Louis'  career,  his  achievements,  his  work, 
they  regarded  it  without  approval.  Their  last  great 
painters  had  been  Bierstadt  and  Hart,  their  last  great 
sculptor,  Powers.  Blankly  they  gazed  upon  the  splen 
dours  of  the  mural  symphonies  achieved  by  the  son  and 
heir  of  all  the  Nevilles ;  they  could  not  comprehend  the 
art  of  the  TJitlanders ;  their  comment  was  silence  and 
dignity. 

To  them  all  had  become  only  shadowy  tradition ; 
even  affection  and  human  emotion,  and  the  relationship 
of  kin  to  kin,  of  friend  to  friend,  had  become  only  part 
of  a  negative  existence  which  conformed  to  precedent, 
temporal  and  spiritual,  as  written  in  the  archives  of  a 
worn-out  civilisation. 

So,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  scarcely  to  be 
wondered  that  Neville  hesitated  to  introduce  the  sub 
ject  of  Valerie  West  as  he  sat  in  the  parlour  at 
Spindrift  House  with  his  father  and  mother,  reading 
the  Tribune  or  the  Evening  Post  or  poring  over  some 
ancient  tome  of  travels,  or  looking  out  across  the  cliffs 
at  an  icy  sea  splintering  and  glittering  against  a  coast 
of  frozen  adamant. 

At  length  he  could  remain  no  longer;  commissions 
awaited  him  in  town ;  hunger  for  Valerie  gnawed 
ceaselessly,  unsubdued  by  his  letters  or  by  hers  to 
him. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  the  evening  before  his  depart- 
296 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


ure,  "  would  it  surprise  you  very  much  if  I  told  you 
that  I  wished  to  marry?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  tranquilly ;  "  you  mean  Stephanie 
Swift,  I  suppose." 


"Tall,  transparently  pale,  negative  in  character.59 

His  father  glanced  up  over  his  spectacles,  and  he 
hesitated;  then,  as  his  father  resumed  his  reading-: 

"  I  don't  mean  Stephanie,  mother." 

His  father  laid  aside  his  book  and  removed  the  thin 
gold-rimmed  spectacles. 

297 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  understand  from  Lily  that  we  are  to  be  prepared 
to  receive  Stephanie  Swift  as  your  affianced  wife,"  he 
said.  "  I  shall  be  gratified.  Stephen  Swift  was  my 
oldest  friend." 

"  Lily  was  mistaken,  father.  Stephanie  and  I  are 
merely  very  good  friends.  I  have  no  idea  of  asking 
her  to  marry  me." 

"  I  had  been  given  to  understand  otherwise,  Louis. 
I  am  disappointed." 

Louis  Neville  looked  out  of  the  window,  consider 
ing,  yet  conscious  of  the  hopelessness  of  it  all. 

"  Who  is  this  girl,  Louis  ?  "  asked  his  mother,  pull 
ing  the  white-and-lilac  wool  shawl  closer  around  her 
thin  shoulders. 

"  Her  name  is  Valerie  West." 

"One  of  the  Wests  of  West  Eighth  Street?"  de 
manded  his  father. 

The  humour  of  it  all  twitched  for  a  moment  at  his 
son's  grimly  set  jaws,  then  a  slight  flush  mantled  his 
face : 

"  No,  father." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Chelsea  Wests,  Louis  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  we — don't  know  them,"  concluded  his 
father  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  which  dismissed 
many,  many  things  from  any  possibility  of  further  dis 
cussion.  But  his  mother's  face  grew  troubled. 

"  Who  is  this  Miss  West  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  colour 
less  voice. 

"  She  is  a  very  good,  very  noble,  very  cultivated, 
very  beautiful  young  girl — an  orphan — who  is  sup 
porting  herself  by  her  own  endeavours." 

"  What !  "  said  his  father,  astonished. 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Mother,  I  know  how  it  sounds  to  you,  but  you 
and  father  have  only  to  meet  her  to  recognise  in  her 
every  quality  that  you  could  possibly  wish  for  in  my 
wife." 

"  Who  is  she,  Louis !  "  demanded  his  father,  casting 
aside  the  evening  newspaper  and  folding  up  his  spec 
tacles. 

"  I've  told  you,  father." 

"  I  beg  to  differ  with  you.  Who  is  this  girl  ?  In 
what  description  of  business  is  she  actually  engaged?  " 

The  young  fellow's  face  grew  red: 

"  She  was  engaged  in — the  drama." 

"  What !  " 

"  She  was  an  actress,"  he  said,  realising  now  the 
utter  absurdity  of  any  hope  from  the  beginning,  yet 
now  committed  and  determined  to  see  it  through  to  the 
bitter  end. 

"  An  actress  !     Louis  !  "  faltered  his  mother. 

There  was  a  silence,  cut  like  a  knife  by  the  thin  edge 
of  his  father's  voice: 

"  If  she  was  an  actress,  what  is  she  now?  " 

"  She  has  helped  me  with  my  painting." 

"Helped  you?     How?" 

"  By — posing." 

"  Do  you  desire  me  to  understand  that  the  girl  is  an 
artist's  model!" 

"  Yes." 

His  father  stared  at  him  a  moment,  then: 

"  And  is  this  the  woman  you  propose  to  have  your 
mother  meet?  " 

"  Father,"  he  said,  hopelessly,  "  there  is  no  use  in  my 
saying  anything  more.  Miss  West  is  a  sweet,  good, 
generous  young  girl,  fully  my  peer  in  education,  my 

299 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


superior  in  many  things.  .  .  .  You  and  mother  can 
never  believe  that  the  ideas,  standards — even  the 
ideals  of  civilisation  change — have,  changed  since  your 
youth — are  changing  every  hour.  In  your  youth  the 
word  actress  had  a  dubious  significance;  to-day  it  sig 
nifies  only  what  the  character  of  her  who  wears  the 
title  signifies.  In  your  youth  it  was  immodest,  unmaid- 
enly,  reprehensible,  for  a  woman  to  be  anything  except 
timid,  easily  abashed,  ignorant  of  vital  truths,  and  sub 
missive  to  every  social  convention ;  to-day  women  are 
neither  ignorant  nor  timid;  they  are  innocent  because 
they  choose  to  be ;  they  are  fearless,  intelligent,  ambi 
tious,  and  self-reliant — and  lose  nothing  in  feminine 
charm  by  daring  to  be  themselves  instead  of  admitting 
their  fitness  only  for  the  seraglio  of  some  Occidental 
monogamist " 

"  Louis  !     Your  mother  is  present !  " 

"  Good  heavens,  father,  I  know  it !  Isn't  it  possible 
even  for  a  man's  own  mother  to  hear  a  little  truth  once 
in  a  while " 

His  father  rose  in  pallid  wrath: 

"Be  silent!"  he  said,  unsteadily;  "the  subject  is 
definitely  ended." 

It  was  ended.  His  father  gave  him  a  thin,  chilly 
hand  at  parting.  But  his  mother  met  him  at  the  outer 
door  and  laid  her  trembling  lips  to  his  forehead. 

"  You  won't  bring  this  shame  on  us,  Louis,  I  know. 
Nor  on  yourself,  nor  on  the  name  you  bear.  .  .  .  It  is 
an  honourable  name  in  the  land,  Louis.  ...  I  pray 
God  to  bless  you  and  counsel  you,  my  son — "  She 
turned  away,  adding  in  a  whisper —  "  and — and  com 
fort  you." 

300 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


And  so  he  went  away  from  Spindrift  House 
through  a  snow-storm,  and  arrived  in  New  York  late 
that  evening;  but  not  too  late  to  call  Valerie  on  the 
telephone  and  hear  again  the  dear  voice  with  its  happy 
little  cry  of  greeting — and  the  promise  of  to-morrow's 
meeting  before  the  day  of  duty  should  begin. 

Love  grew  as  the  winter  sped  glittering  toward  the 
far  primrose  dawn  of  spring;  work  filled  their  days; 
evening  brought  the  happiness  of  a  reunion  eternally 
charming  in  its  surprises,  its  endless  novelty.  New, 
forever  new,  love  seemed;  and  youth,  too,  seemed  im 
mortal. 

On  various  occasions  when  Valerie  chanced  to  be  at 
his  studio,  pouring  tea  for  him,  friends  of  his  sister 
came  unannounced — agreeable  women  more  or  less 
fashionable,  who  pleaded  his  sister's  sanction  of  an  un 
ceremonious  call  to  see  the  great  painted  frieze  before 
it  was  sent  to  the  Court  House. 

He  was  perfectly  nice  to  them;  and  Valerie  was 
perfectly  at  ease ;  and  it  was  very  plain  that  these  peo 
ple  were  interested  and  charmed  with  this  lovely  Miss 
West,  whom  they  found  pouring  tea  in  the  studio  of  an 
artist  already  celebrated;  and  every  one  of  them  ex 
pressed  themselves  and  their  curiosity  to  his  sister, 
Mrs.  Collis,  who,  never  having  heard  of  Valerie  West, 
prudently  conveyed  the  contrary  in  smiling  but  silent 
acquiescence,  and  finally  wrote  to  her  brother  and  told 
him  what  was  being  said. 

Before  he  determined  to  reply,  another  friend — or 
rather  acquaintance  of  the  Collis  family — came  in  to  see 
the  picture — the  slim  and  pretty  Countess  d'Enver. 
And  went  quite  mad  over  Valerie — so  much  so  that  she 

301 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


remained  for  an  hour  talking  to  her,  almost  oblivious 
of  Neville  and  his  picture  and  of  Ogilvy  and  Annan, 
who  consumed  time  and  cocktails  in  the  modest  back 
ground. 

When  she  finally  went  away,  and  Neville  had  re 
turned  from  putting  her  into  her  over-elaborate  car 
riage,  Ogilvy  said: 

"  Gee,  Valerie,  you  sure  did  make  a  hit  with  the 
lady.  What  was  she  trying  to  make  you  do  ?  " 

"  She  asked  me  to  come  to  a  reception  of  the  Five  - 
Minute  Club  with  Louis,"  said  Valerie,  laughing. 
"What  is  the  Five-Minute  Club,  Louis?" 

"  Oh,  it's  a  semi-fashionable,  semi-artistic  affair — 
one  of  the  incarnations  of  the  latest  group  of  revolting 
painters  and  sculptors  and  literary  people,  diluted  with 
a  little  society  and  a  good  deal  of  near-society." 

Later,  as  they  were  dining  together  at  Delmonico's, 
he  said : 

"  Would  you  care  to  go,  Valerie  ?  " 

"  Yes — if  you  think  it  best  for  us  to  accept  such 
invitations  together." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  don't  know.  .  .  .  Considering  what  we  are  to 
become  to  each  other — I  thought — perhaps  the  preju 
dices  of  your  friends " 

He  turned  a  dull  red,  said  nothing  for  a  moment, 
then,  looking  up  at  her,  suddenly  laid  his  hand  ovev 
hers  where  it  rested  on  the  table's  edge. 

"  The  world  must  take  us  as  it  finds  us,"  he  said. 

"  I  know ;  but  is  it  quite  fair  to  seek  it?  " 

"  You  adorable  girl !  Didn't  the  Countess  seek  us 
— or  rather  you? — and  torment  you  until  you  prom 
ised  to  go  to  the  up-to-date  doings  of  her  bally  club! 

302 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


It's  across  to  her,  now.  And  as  half  of  society  has  ex 
changed  husbands  and  half  of  the  remainder  doesn't 
bother  to,  I  don't  think  a  girl  like  you  and  a  man  like 
myself  are  likely  to  meet  very  many  people  as  innately 
decent  as  ourselves." 

A  reception  at  the  Five-Minute  Club  was  anything 
but  an  ordinary  affair. 

It  was  the  ultra-modern  school  of  positivists  where 
realism  was  on  the  cards  and  romance  in  the  discards ; 
where  muscle,  biceps,  and  thumb-punching  replaced 
technical  mastery  and  delicate  skill;  where  inspiration 
was  physical,  not  intellectual;  where  writers  called  a 
spade  a  spade,  and  painters  painted  all  sorts  of  similar 
bucolic  instruments  with  candour  and  an  inadequate 
knowledge  of  their  art ;  where  composers  thumped  their 
pianos  the  harder,  the  less  their  raucous  inspiration  re 
sponded,  or  maundered  incapably  into  interminable  in- 
coherency,  hunting  for  themes  in  grays  and  mauves  and 
reds  and  yellows,  determined  to  find  in  music  what  does 
not  belong  there  and  never  did. 

In  spite  of  its  apparent  vigour  and  uncompromising 
modernity,  one  suspected  a  sub-stratum  of  weakness  and 
a  perversity  slightly  vicious. 

Colour  blindness  might  account  for  some  of  the 
canvases,  strabismus  for  some  of  the  draughtmanship ; 
but  not  for  all.  There  was  an  ugly  deliberation  in  the 
glorification  of  the  raw,  the  uncouth;  there  was  a  cal 
lous  hardness  in  the  deadly  elaboration  of  ugliness  for 
its  own  sake.  And  transcendentalism  looked  on  in 
approval. 

A  near-sighted  study  of  various  masters,  brilliant, 
morbid,  or  essentially  rotten,  was  the  basis  of  this  cult 

303 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


— not  originality.  Its  devotees  were  the  devotees  of 
Richard  Strauss,  of  Huysmans,  of  Manet,  of  Degas, 
Hops,  Louis  Le  Grand,  Forain,  Monticelli ;  its  painters 
painted  nakedness  in  footlight  effects  with  blobs  for 
faces  and  blue  shadows  where  they  were  needed  to  con 
ceal  the  defects  of  impudent  drawing ;  its  composers 
maundered  with  both  ears  spread  wide  for  stray  echoes 
of  Salome ;  its  sculptors,  stupefied  by  Rodin,  achieved 
sections  of  human  anatomy  protruding  from  lumps  of 
clay  and  marble;  its  dramatists,  drugged  by  Mallarme 
and  Maeterlinck,  dabbled  in  dullness,  platitude  and 
mediocre  psychology ;  its  writers  wrote  as  bloodily,  as 
squalidly,  and  as  immodestly  as  they  dared ;  its  poets 
blubbered  with  Verlaine,  spat  with  Aristide  Bruant,  or 
leered  with  the  alcoholic  muses  of  the  Dead  Rat. 

They  were  all  young,  all  in  deadly  earnest,  all 
imperfectly  educated,  all  hard  workers,  brave  work 
ers,  blind,  incapable  workers  sweating  and  twist 
ing  and  hammering  in  their  impotence  against  the 
changeless  laws  of  truth  and  beauty.  With  them  it 
was  not  a  case  of  a  loose  screw ;  all  screws  had  been 
tightened  so  brutally  that  the  machinery  became  dead 
locked.  They  were  neither  lazy,  languid,  nor  precious ; 
they  only  thought  they  knew  how  and  they  didn't.  All 
their  vigour  was  sterile;  all  their  courage  vain. 

Several  attractive  women  exquisitely  gowned  were 
receiving;  there  was  just  a  little  something  unusual  in 
their  prettiness,  in  their  toilets ;  and  also  a  little  some 
thing  lacking ;  and  its  absence  was  as  noticeable  in  them 
as  it  was  in  the  majority  of  arriving  or  departing 
guests. 

It  could  not  have  been  self-possession  and  breeding 
which  an  outsider  missed.  For  the  slim  Countess  d'En- 

304 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


ver  possessed  both,  inherited  from  her  Pittsburgh  par 
ents  ;  and  Mrs.  Hind-Willet  was  born  to  a  social  security 
indisputable ;  and  Latimer  Varyck  had  been  in  the  di 
plomatic  service  before  he  wrote  "  Unclothed,"  and  the 
handsome,  dark-eyed  Mrs.  Atherstane  divided  social 
Manhattan  with  a  blonder  and  lovelier  rival. 

Valerie  entering  with  Neville,  slender,  self-possessed, 
a  hint  of  inquiry  in  her  level  eyes,  heard  the  man 
at  the  door  announce  them,  and  was  conscious  of  many 
people  turning  as  they  passed  into  the  big  recep 
tion  room.  A  woman  near  her  murmured,  "  What 
a  beauty ! "  Another  added,  "  How  intelligently 
gowned !  "  The  slim  Countess  Helene  d'Enver,  nee 
Nellie  Jackson,  held  out  a  perfectly  gloved  hand  and 
nodded  amiably  to  Neville.  Then,  smiling  fixedly  at 
Valerie: 

"  My  dear,  how  nice  of  you,"  she  said.  "  And  you, 
too,  Louis ;  it  is  very  amusing  of  you  to  come.  Jose 
Querida  has  just  departed.  He  gave  us  such  a  delight 
ful  five-minute  talk  on  modernity.  Quoting  Huneker, 
he  spoke  of  it  as  a  '  quality  ' — and  '  that  nervous,  naked 
vibration  ' " 

She  ended  with  a  capricious  gesture  which  might 
have  meant  anything  ineffable,  or  an  order  for  a  Bronx 
cocktail. 

"What's  a  nervous,  naked  vibration?"  demanded 
Neville,  with  an  impatient  shrug.  "  It  sounds  like  a 
massage  parlour — not,"  he  added  with  respect,  "  that 
Huneker  doesn't  know  what  he's  talking  about.  No 
body  doubts  that.  Only  art  is  one  delicious  bouilla 
baisse  to  him." 

The  Countess  d'Enver  laughed,  still  retaining  Val 
erie's  hand: 

305 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Your  gown  is  charming — may  I  add  that  you 
are  disturbingly  beautiful,  Miss  West?  When  they 
have  given  you  some  tea,  will  you  find  me  if  I  can't  find 
you?" 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  said  Valerie. 

At  the  tea  table  Neville  brought  her  a  glass  of 
sherry  and  a  bite  of  something  squashy ;  a  number  of 
people  spoke  to  him  and  asked  to  be  presented  to 
Valerie.  Her  poise,  her  unconsciousness,  the  winning 
simplicity  of  her  manner  were  noticed  everywhere,  and 
everywhere  commented  on.  People  betrayed  a  tendency 
to  form  groups  around  her;  women,  prepared  by  her 
unusual  beauty  for  anything  between  mediocrity  and 
inanity,  were  a  little  perplexed  at  her  intelligence  and 
candour. 

To  Mrs.  Hind-Willet's  question  she  replied  inno 
cently  :  "  To  me  there  is  no  modern  painter  compara 
ble  to  Mr.  Neville,  though  I  dearly  love  Wilson,  So- 
rella  and  Querida." 

To  Latimer  Varyck's  whimsical  insistence  she 
finally  was  obliged  to  admit  that  her  reasons  for  not 
liking  Richard  Strauss  were  because  she  thought 
him  ugly,  uninspired,  and  disreputable,  which  un 
expected  truism  practically  stunned  that  harmless 
dilettante  and  so  delighted  Neville  that  he  was  obliged 
to  disguise  his  mirth  with  a  scowl  directed  at  the 
ceiling. 

"Did  I  say  anything  very  dreadful,  Kelly?"  she 
whispered,  when  opportunity  offered. 

"  No,  you  darling.  I  couldn't  keep  a  civil  face 
when  you  told  the  truth  about  Richard  Strauss  to  that 
rickety  old  sensualist." 

"  I  don't  really  know  enough  to  criticise  anything. 
306 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


But  Mr.  Varyck  would  make  me  answer ;  and  one  must 
say  something." 

Olaf  Dennison,  without  preliminary,  sat  down  at  the 
piano,  tossed  aside  his  heavy  hair,  and  gave  a  five- 
minute  prelude  to  the  second  act  of  his  new  opera, 
"  Yvonne  of  Bannalec."  The  opera  might  as  well  have 
been  called  Mamie  of  Hoboken,  for  all  the  music  signi 
fied  to  Neville. 

Mrs.  Hind-Willet,  leaning  over  the  chair  where  Val 
erie  was  seated,  whispered  fervently : 

"  Isn't  it  graphic !  The  music  describes  an  old 
Breton  peasant  going  to  market.  You  can  hear  the 
very  click  of  his  sabots  and  the  gurgle  of  the  cider  in 
his  jug.  And  that  queer  little  slap-stick  noise  is  where 
he's  striking  palms  with  another  peasant  bargaining 
for  his  cider." 

"  But  where  does  Yvonne  come  in  ?  "  inquired  Va 
lerie  in  soft  bewilderment. 

"  He's  Yvonne's  father,"  whispered  Mrs.  Hind- 
Willet.  "  The  girl  doesn't  appear  during  the  en 
tire  opera.  It's  a  marvellously  important  advance 
beyond  the  tonal  and  graphic  subtleties  of  Richard 
Strauss." 

Other  earnest  and  worthy  people  consumed  inter 
vals  of  five  minutes  now  and  then ;  a  "  diseuse," — whom 
Neville  insisted  on  calling  a  "  disease,"  —  said  a  coy 
and  rather  dirty  little  French  poem  directly  at  her 
audience,  leeringly  assisted  by  an  over-sophisticated 
piano  accompaniment. 

"  If  that's  modernity  it's  certainly  naked  and  ner 
vous  enough,"  commented  Neville,  drily. 

"  It's — it's  perfectly  horrid,"  murmured  Valerie, 
the  blush  still  lingering  on  cheek  and  brow.  "  I  can't 

309 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


understand  how  intelligent  people  can  even  think  about 
such  things." 

"Modernity,"  repeated  Neville.  "Hello;  there's 
Carrillo,  the  young  apostle  of  Bruant,  who  makes  such 
a  hit  with  the  elect." 

"How,  Kelly?" 

"  Realism,  New  York,  and  the  spade  business.  He 
saw  a  sign  on  a  Bowery  clothing  store, — '  Gents  Pants 
Half  Off  Today,'  and  he  wrote  a  poem  on  it  and  all 
Manhattan  sat  up  and  welcomed  him  as  a  peerless  real 
ist;  and  dear  old  Dean  Williams  compared  him  to  Tol 
stoy  and  Ed.  Harrigan,  and  there  was  the  deuce  to  pay 
artistically  and  generally.  Listen  to  the  Yankee  Stein- 
len  in  five-minute  verse,  dear." 

Carrillo  rose,  glanced  carelessly  at  his  type-written 
manuscript  and  announced  its  title  unconcernedly: 

"  Mutts  In  Madison  Square. 

"A  sodden  tramp  sits  scratching  on  a  bench, 
The  S.  C.  D.  cart  trails  a  lengthening  stench 
Where  White  Wings  scrape  the  asphalt;  and  a 

breeze 

Ripples  the  fountain  and  the  budding  trees. 
Now  fat  old  women,  waddling  like  hogs, 
Arrive  to  exercise  their  various  dogs; 
And  'round  and  'round  the  little  mutts  all  run, 
Grass-maddened,  frantic,  circling  in  the  sun, 
Wagging  and  nosing — see !  beneath  yon  tree 
One  little  mutt  meets  his  affinity! 
And,  near,  another  madly  wags  his  tail 
Inquiringly;  but  his  advances  fail, 
And,  *  yap-yap-yap!'  replies  the  shrewish  tyke,. 
So  off  the  other  starts  upon  a  hike, 
310 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Rushing  at  random,  crazed  with  sun  and  air, 
Circling  and  barking  out  his  canine  prayer: 

"  'Oh,  Lord  of  dogs  who  made  the  Out-of-doors 
And  fashioned  mutts  to  gambol  on  all  fours, 
Grant  us  a  respite  from  the  city's  stones! 
Grant  us  a  grassy  place  to  bury  bones ! — 
A  grassy  spot  to  roll  on  now  and  then, 
Oh,  Lord  of  dogs  who  also  fashioned  men, 
Accept  our  thanks  for  this  brief  breath  of  air, 
And  grant,  Oh,  Lord,  a  humble  mongrel's  prayer!' 

The  hoboe,  sprawling,  scratches  in  the  sun; 

While  'round  and  'round  the  happy  mongrels  run.'* 

"  Good  Heavens,"  breathed  Neville,  "  that  sort  of 
thing  may  be  modern  and  strong,  but  it's  too  rank  for 
me,  Valerie.  Shall  we  bolt?  " 

"  I — I  think  we'd  better,"  she  said  miserably.  "  I 
don't  think  I  care  for — for  these  interesting  people  very 
much." 

They  rose  and  passed  slowly  along  the  walls  of  the 
room,  which  were  hung  with  "  five-minute  sketches," 
which  probably  took  five  seconds  to  conceive  and  five 
hours  to  execute — here  an  unclothed  woman,  chiefly 
remarkable  for  an  extraordinary  development  of  adi 
pose  tissue  and  house-maid's  knee;  here  a  pathologi 
cal  gem  that  might  have  aptly  illustrated  a  work  on 
malformations ;  yonder  a  dashing  dab  of  balderdash,  and 
next  it  one  of  Rackin's  masterpieces,  flanked  by  a  gem 
of  Stanley  Pooks. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  emerging  from  a  chunk 
of  marble,  the  back  and  neck  and  one  ear  of  an  un- 

311 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


clothed  lady  protruded;  and  the  sculptured  achieve 
ment  was  labelled,  "  Beatrice  Andante." 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  whispered  Neville,  repressing  a  violent 
desire  to  laugh.  "  Beatrice  and  Aunty !  I  didn't  know 
he  had  one." 

"Is  it  Dante's  Beatrice,  Kelly?  Where  is  Dante 
and  his  Aunty  ?  " 

"  God  knows.  They  made  a  mess  of  it  anyway, 
those  two — andante — which  I  suppose  this  mess  in  mar 
ble  symbolises.  Pity  he  didn't  have  an  aunty  to  tell 
him  how." 

"  Louis !  How  irreverent !  "  she  whispered,  eyes 
sparkling  with  laughter. 

"  Shall  I  try  a  five-minute  fashionable  impromptu, 
dear  ?  "  he  asked : 

"If  Dante'd  had  an  Aunty 
Who  ante-dated  Dante 
And  scolded  him 
And  tolded  him 
The  way  to  win  a  winner, 
It's  a  cinch  or  I'm  a  sinner, 
He'd  have  taken  Trix  to  dinner, 
He'd  have  given  her  the  eye 
Of  the  fish  about  to  die, 
And  folded  her, 
And  moulded  her 
Like  dough  within  a  pie — 
A  sallow,  pallid  pie — 
And  cooked  a  scheme  to  marry  her, 
And  hired  a  hack  to  carry  her 
To  stately  Harlem-by-the-Bronx, 
Where  now  the  lonely  taxi  honks ** 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Kelly !  "  she  gasped. 

They  both  were  laughing  so  that  they  hastened 
their  steps,  fearful  of  offending,  and  barely  contrived  to 
compose  their  features  when  making  their  adieux  to 
Mrs.  Hind-Willet  and  the  Countess  d'Enver. 

As  they  walked  east  along  Fifty-ninth  Street, 
breathing  in  the  fresh,  sparkling  evening  air,  she  said 
impulsively : 

"  And  to  think,  Louis,  that  if  I  had  been  wicked 
enough  to  marry  you  I'd  have  driven  you  into  that 
kind  of  society — or  into  something  generically  sim 
ilar!" 

His  face  sobered: 

"  You  could  hold  your  own  in  any  society." 

"  Perhaps  I  could.     But  they  wouldn't  let  me." 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  fight  it  out  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear — at  your  expense.  Otherwise — "  She 
gazed  smilingly  into  space,  a  slight  colour  in  either 
cheek. 


II 


CHAPTER    XI 

VALERIE  WEST  was  twenty-two  years  old  in  Febru 
ary.  One  year  of  life  lay  behind  her;  her  future 
stretched  away  into  sunlit  infinity. 

Neville  attained  his  twenty-eighth  year  in  March. 
Years  still  lay  before  him,  a  few  lay  behind  him ;  but 
in  a  single  month  he  had  waded  so  swiftly  forward 
through  the  sea  of  life  that  the  shallows  were  already 
passed,  the  last  shoal  was  deepening  rapidly.  Only  im 
measurable  and  menacing  depths  remained  between  him 
and  the  horizon — that  pale,  dead  line  dividing  the  noon 
day  of  to-day  from  the  phantom  suns  of  blank  eternity. 

It  was  that  winter  that  he  began  the  picture  des 
tined  to  fix  definitely  his  position  among  the  painters 
of  his  times — began  it  humbly,  yet  somehow  aware  of 
what  it  was  to  be;  afraid,  for  all  his  courage,  yet  con 
scious  of  something  inevitable  impending.  It  was  Des 
tiny  ;  and,  instinctively,  he  arose  to  meet  it. 

He  called  the  picture  "  A  Bride."  A  sapphire  sky 
fading  to  turquoise,  in  which  great  clouds  crowded 
high  in  argent  splendour — a  young  girl  naked  of  feet, 
her  snowy  body  cinctured  at  the  waist  with  straight 
and  silvered  folds,  standing  amid  a  riot  of  wild  flowers, 
head  slightly  dropped  back,  white  arms  inert,  pendant. 
And  in  her  eyes'  deep  velvet  depths  the  mystery  of  the 
Annunciation. 

All  of  humanity  and  of  maturity — of  adolescence 
314 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


and  of  divinity  was  in  that  face ;  in  the  exquisitely  sensi 
tive  wisdom  of  the  woman's  eyes,  in  the  full  sweet  in 
nocence  of  the  childish  mouth — in  the  smooth  little 


'"Where  do  you  keep  those  pretty  models,  Louis?  '   he  demanded." 

hands  so  unsoiled,  so  pure — in  the  nun-like  pallor  and 
slender  beauty  of  the  throat. 

Whatever  had  been  his  inspiration — whether  spir 
itual  conviction,  or  the  physical  beauty  of  Valerie, 
neither  he  nor  she  considered  very  deeply.  But  that 
he  was  embodying  and  creating  something  of  the  ex 
istence  of  which  neither  he  nor  she  had  been  aware  a 

315 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


month  ago,  was  awaking  something  within  them  that 
had  never  before  stirred  or  given  sign  of  life. 

Since  the  last  section  of  the  mural  decoration  for 
the  new  court  house  had  been  shipped  to  its  destination, 
he  had  busied  himself  on  two  canvases,  a  portrait  of  his 
sister  in  furs,  and  the  portrait  of  Valerie. 

Lily  Collis  came  in  the  mornings  twice  a  week  to  sit 
for  him ;  and  once  or  twice  Stephanie  Swift  came  with 
her;  also  Sandy  Cameron,  ruddy,  bald,  jovial,  scoffing, 
and  insatiably  curious. 

"  Where  do  you  keep  all  those  pretty  models, 
Louis  ?  "  he  demanded,  prying  aside  the  tapestry  with 
the  crook  of  his  walking  stick,  and  peeping  behind  fur 
niture  and  hangings  and  big  piles  of  canvases.  "  Be 
a  sport  and  introduce  us ;  Stephanie  wants  to  see  a  few 
as  well  as  I  do." 

Neville  shrugged  and  went  on  painting,  which  ex 
asperated  Cameron. 

"  It's  a  fraud,"  he  observed,  in  a  loud,  confidential 
aside  to  Stephanie ;  "  this  studio  ought  to  be  full  of 
young  men  in  velvet  coats  and  bunchy  ties,  singing^ 
'  Oh  la — la !  '  and  dextrously  balancing  on  their  baggy 
knees  a  series  of  assorted  soubrettes.  It's  a  bluff,  a 
hoax,  a  con  game!  Are  you  going  to  stand  for  it? 
I  don't  see  any  absinthe  either — or  even  any  Vin  ordi 
naire!  Only  a  tea-pot — a  tea-pot!  "  he  repeated  in  un 
utterable  scorn.  "  Why,  there's  more  of  Bohemia  in  a 
Broad  Street  Trust  Company  than  there  is  in  this  Pull 
man  car  studio ! " 

Mrs.  Collis  was  laughing  so  that  her  brother  had 
difficulty  in  going  on  with  her  portrait. 

"Get  out  of  here,  Sandy,"  he  said— "  or  take 
316 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Stephanie  into  the  rest  of  the  apartment,  somewhere, 
and  tell  her  your  woes." 

Stephanie,  who  had  been  exploring,  turning  over 
piles  of  chassis  and  investigating  canvases  and  charcoal 
studies  stacked  up  here  and  there  against  the  wainscot, 
pulled  aside  an  easel  which  impeded  her  progress,  and 
in  so  doing  accidentally  turned  the  canvas  affixed  to  it 
toward  the  light. 

"  Hello ! "  exclaimed  Cameron  briskly,  "  who  is 
this?" 

Lily  turned  her  small,  aristocratic  head,  and 
Stephanie  looked  around. 

"  What  a  perfectly  beautiful  girl !  "  she  exclaimed 
impulsively ;  "  who  is  she,  Louis  ?  '* 

"  A  model,"  he  said  calmly ;  but  the  careless  and 
casual  exposure  of  the  canvas  had  angered  him  so  sud 
denly  that  his  own  swift  emotion  astonished  him. 

Lily  had  risen  from  her  seat,  and  now  stood  looking 
fixedly  at  the  portrait  of  Valerie  West,  her  furs  trailing 
from  one  shoulder  to  the  chair. 

"  My  eye  and  Betty  Martin !  "  cried  Cameron,  "  I'll 
take  it  all  back,  girls !  It's  a  real  studio  after  all — 
and  this  is  the  real  thing!  Louis,  do  you  think  she's 
seen  the  Aquarium?  I'm  disengaged  after  three 
o'clock » 

He  began  to  kiss  his  hand  rapidly  in  the  direction 
of  the  portrait,  and  then,  fondly  embracing  his  own 
walking  stick,  he  took  a  few  jaunty  steps  in  circles, 
singing  "  Waltz  me  around  again,  Willy." 

Lily  Collis  said :  "  If  your  model  is  as  lovely  as  her 
portrait,  Louis,  she  is  a  real  beauty.  "Who  is  she?  " 

"  A  professional  model."  He  could  scarcely  con 
tain  his  impatience  with  his  sister,  with  Cameron's  fat 

317 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


humour,  with  Stephanie's  quiet  and  intent  scrutiny — 
as  though,  somehow,  he  had  suddenly  exposed  Valerie 
herself  to  the  cool  and  cynically  detached  curiosity  of 
a  world  which  she  knew  must  always  remain  unfriendly 
to  her. 

He  was  perfectly  aware  that  his  sister  had  guessed 
whose  portrait  confronted  them ;  he  supposed,  too,  that 
Stephanie  probably  suspected.  And  the  knowledge  ir 
ritated  him  more  than  the  clownishness  of  Cameron. 

"  It  is  a  splendid  piece  of  painting,"  said  Stephanie 
cordially,  and  turned  quietly  to  a  portfolio  of  drawings 
at  her  elbow.  She  had  let  her  fleeting  glance  rest  on 
Neville  for  a  second ;  had  divined  in  a  flash  that  he  was 
enduring  and  not  courting  their  examination  of  this 
picture;  that,  somehow,  her  accidental  discovery  of  it 
had  displeased  him — was  even  paining  him. 

"  Sandy,"  she  said  cheerfully,  "  come  here  and  help 
me  look  over  these  sketches." 

"  Any  peaches  among  'em  ?  " 

"  Bushels." 

Cameron  came  with  alacrity;  Neville  waited  until 
Lily  reluctantly  resumed  her  seat ;  then  he  pushed  back 
the  easel,  turned  Valerie's  portrait  to  the  wall,  and 
quietly  resumed  his  painting. 

Art  in  any  form  was  powerless  to  retain  Cameron's 
attention  for  very  many  consecutive  minutes  at  a  time; 
he  grew  restless,  fussed  about  with  portfolios  for  a  little 
while  longer,  enlivening  the  tedium  with  characteristic 
observations. 

"  Well,  I've  got  business  down  town,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  great  pretence  of  regret.  "  Come  on,  Stephanie ; 
we'll  go  to  the  Exchange  and  start  something.  Shall 
we?  Oh,  anything — from  a  panic  to  a  bull-market! 

318 


THE   COMMON   JJAW 


I  don't  care ;  go  as  far  as  you  like.  You  may  wreck 
a  few  railroads  if  you  want  to.  Only  I've  got  to  go. 
.  .  .  Awfully  good  of  you  to  let  me — er — see  all  these 
—  er  — •  interesting  and  er  —  m-m-m  —  things,  Louis. 
Glad  I  saw  that  dream  of  a  peacherino,  too.  What 
is  she  on  the  side?  An  actorine?  If  she  is  I'll  take 
a  box  for  the  rest  of  the  season  including  the  road 
and  one-night  stands..  .  .Good-bye,  Mrs.  Collis ! 
Good-bye,  Stephanie !  Good-bye,  Louis ! — I'll  come  and 
spend  the  day  with  you  when  you're  too  busy  to  see 
me.  Now,  Stephanie,  child!  It's  the  Stock  Exchange 
or  the  Little  Church  around  the  Corner  for  you  and 
me,  if  you  say  so !  " 

Stephanie  had  duties  at  a  different  sort  of  an  Ex 
change;  and  she  also  took  her  leave,  thanking  Neville 
warmly  for  the  pleasure  she  had  had,  and  promising 
to  lunch  with  Lily  at  the  Continental  Club. 

When  they  had  departed,  Lily  said: 

"  I  suppose  that  is  a  portrait  of  your  model,  Valerie 
West." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  shortly. 

"  Well,  Louis,  it  is  perfectly  absurd  of  you  to  show 
so  plainly  that  you  consider  our  discovery  of  it  a  dese 
cration." 

He  turned  red  with  surprise  and  irritation : 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say.  You  showed  by  your 
expression  and  your  manner  that  our  inspection  of  the 
picture  and  our  questions  and  comments  concerning  it 
were  unwelcome." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  showed  it.  ...  But  they  were  un 
welcome." 

"Will  you  tell  me  why?" 
319 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  I  don't  think  I  know  exactly  why — unless  the  por 
trait  was  a  personal  and  private  affair  concerning  only 
myself ' 

"  Louis !     Has  it  gone  as  far  as  that  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  what  ?  What  on  earth  are  you  trying 
to  say,  Lily?" 

"  I'm  trying  to  say — as  nicely  and  as  gently  as  I 
can — that  your  behaviour — in  regard  to  this  girl  is 
making  us  all  perfectly  wretched." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  by  '  us  all '  ?  "  he  demanded 
sullenly. 

"  Father  and  mother  and  myself.  You  must  have 
known  perfectly  well  that  father  would  write  to  me 
about  what  you  told  him  at  Spindrift  House  a  month 
ago." 

"Did  he?" 

"  Of  course  he  did,  Louis !  Mother  is  simply 
worrying  herself  ill  over  you;  father  is  incredulous — 
at  least  he  pretends  to  be;  but  he  has  written  me  twice 
on  the  subject — and  I  think  you  might  just  as  well 
be  told  what  anxiety  and  unhappiness  your  fascination 
for  this  girl  is  causing  us  all." 

Mrs.  Collis  was  leaning  far  forward  in  her  chair, 
forgetful  of  her  pose ;  Neville  stood  silent,  head  lowered, 
absently  mixing  tints  upon  his  palette  without  regard 
to  the  work  under  way. 

When  he  had  almost  covered  his  palette  with  useless 
squares  of  colour  he  picked  up  a  palette-knife,  scraped 
it  clean,  smeared  the  residue  on  a  handful  of  rags,  laid 
aside  brushes  and  palette,  and  walked  slowly  to  the 
window. 

It  was  snowing  again.  He  could  hear  the  feathery 
whisper  of  the  flakes  falling  on  the  glass  roof  above; 

320 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


and  he  remembered  the  night  of  the  new  year,  and  all 
that  it  had  brought  to  him — all  the  wonder  and  happi 
ness  and  perplexity  of  a  future  utterly  unsuspected, 
undreamed  of. 

And  now  it  was  into  that  future  he  was  staring  with 
a  fixed  and  blank  gaze  as  his  sister's  hand  fell  upon 
his  shoulder  and  her  cheek  rested  a  moment  in  caress 
against  his. 

"  Dearest  child,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  speak  harshly  or  without  sympathy.  But,  after 
all,  shouldn't  a  son  consider  his  father  and  mother  in  a 
matter  of  this  kind?  " 

"  I  have  considered  them — tried  to." 

Mrs.  Collis  dropped  into  an  arm-chair.  After  a  few 
moments  he  also  seated  himself  listlessly,  and  sat  gazing 
at  nothing  out  of  absent  eyes. 

She  said :  "  You  know  what  father  and  mother  are. 
Even  I  have  something  left  of  their  old-fashioned  con 
servatism  clinging  to  me — and  yet  people  consider  me 
extremely  liberal  in  my  views.  But  all  my  liberality, 
all  my  modern  education  since  I  left  the  dear  old 
absurdities  of  our  narrow  childhood  and  youth,  can  not 
reconcile  me  to  what  you  threaten  us  with — with  what 
you  are  threatened — you,  your  entire  future  life." 

"  What  seems  to  threaten  you — and  them — is  my 
marriage  to  the  woman  with  whom  I'm  in  love.  Does 
that  shock  you  ?  " 

"  The  circumstances  shock  me." 

"  I  could  not  control  the  circumstances." 

"  You  can  control  yourself,  Louis." 

"  Yes — I  can  do  that.  I  can  break  her  heart  and 
mine." 

"  Hearts   don't  break,  Louis.     And  is  anybody  to 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


live  life  through  exempt  from  suffering?  If  your  un- 
happiness  comes  early  in  life  to  you  it  will  pass  the 
sooner,  leaving  the  future  tranquil  for  you,  and  you 
ready  for  it,  unperplexed — made  cleaner,  purer,  braver 
by  a  sorrow  that  came,  as  comes  all  sorrow — and  that 
has  gone  its  way,  like  all  sorrows,  leaving  you  the  bet 
ter  and  the  worthier."  f 

"  How  is  it  to  leave  her?  " 

He  spoke  so  naturally,  so  simply,  that  for  the  mo 
ment  his  sister  did  not  recognise  in  him  what  had  never 
before  been  there  to  recognise — the  thought  of  another 
before  himself.  Afterward  she  remembered  it. 

She  said  quietly :  "  If  Valerie  West  is  a  girl  really 
sincere  and  meriting  your  respect,  she  will  face  this 
matter  as  you  face  it." 

"  Yes — she  would  do  that,"  he  said,  thoughtfully. 

"  Then  I  think  that  the  sooner  you  explain  matters 
to  her— 

He  laughed :  "  /  don't  have  to  explain  anything  to 
her,  Lily." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  She  knows  how  things  stand.  She  is  perfectly 
aware  of  your  world's  attitude  toward  her.  She  has 
not  the  slightest  intention  of  forcing  herself  on  you,  or 
of  asking  your  indulgence  or  your  charity." 

"  You  mean,  then,  that  she  desires  to  separate  you 
from  your  family — from  your  friends — 

"  No,"  he  said  wearily,  "  she  does  not  desire  that, 
either." 

His  sister's  troubled  eyes  rested  on  him  in  silence 
for  a  while ;  then : 

"  I  know  she  is  beautiful ;  I  am  sure  she  is  good, 
Louis — good  in — in  her  own  way — worthy,  in  her  own 

322 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


fashion.  But,  dear,  is  that  all  that  you,  a  Neville,  re 
quire  of  the  woman  who  is  to  bear  your  name — bear 
your  children  ?  " 

"  She  is  all  I  require — and  far  more." 

"  Dear,  you  are  utterly  blinded  by  your  infatua 
tion!" 

"  You  do  not  know  her." 

"  Then  let  me !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Collis  desperately. 
"  Let  me  meet  her,  Louis — let  me  talk  with  her " 

"  No.  .  .  .  And  I'll  tell  you  why,  Lily ;  it's  because 
she  does  not  care  to  meet  you." 

"What!" 

"  I  have  told  you  the  plain  truth.  She  sees  no  rea 
son  for  knowing  you,  or  for  knowing  my  parents,  or 
any  woman  in  a  world  that  would  never  tolerate  her, 
never  submit  to  her  entrance,  never  receive  her  as  one 
of  them!  —  a  world  that  might  shrug  and  smile  and 
endure  her  as  my  wife — and  embitter  my  life  forever." 

As  he  spoke  he  was  not  aware  that  he  merely  re 
peated  Valerie's  own  words ;  he  remained  still  uncon 
scious  that  his  decision  was  in  fact  merely  her  decision ; 
that  his  entire  attitude  had  become  hers  because  her 
nature  and  her  character  were  as  yet  the  stronger. 

But  in  his  words  his  sister's  quick  intelligence  per 
ceived  a  logic  and  a  conclusion  entirely  feminine  and 
utterly  foreign  to  her  brother's  habit  of  mind.  And 
she  realised  with  a  thrill  of  fear  that  she  had  to  do,  not 
with  her  brother,  but  with  a  woman  who  was  to  be 
reckoned  with. 

"  Do  you — or  does  Miss  West  think  it  likely  that 
I  am  a  woman  to  wound,  to  affront  another — no  matter 
who  she  may  be?  Surely,  Louis,  you  could  have  told 
her  very  little  about  me " 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  never  mention  you  to  her." 

Lily  caught  her  breath. 

"Why?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  That  is  unfair,  Louis !  She  has  the  right  to 
know  about  your  own  family — otherwise  how  can  she 
understand  the  situation  ?  " 

"It's  like  all  situations,  isn't  it?  You  and  father 
and  mother  have  your  own  arbitrary  customs  and  tra 
ditions  and  standards  of  respectability.  You  rule  out 
whom  you  choose.  Valerie  West  knows  perfectly  well 
that  you  would  rule  her  out.  Why  should  she  give 
you.  the  opportunity  ?  " 

"  Is  she  afraid  of  me  ?  " 

He  smiled :  "  I  don't  think  so.  "  And  his  smile 
angered  his  sister. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  biting  her  lip. 

For  a  few  moments  she  sat  there  deliberating,  her 
pointed  patent-leather  toe  tapping  the  polished  floor. 
Then  she  stood  up,  with  decision: 

"  There  is  no  use  in  our  quarrelling,  Louis — until 
the  time  comes  when  some  outsider  forces  us  into  an 
unhappy  misunderstanding.  Kiss  me  good-bye,  dear." 

She  lifted  her  face;  he  kissed  her;  and  her  hand 
closed  impulsively  on  his  arm: 

"  Louis !  Louis !  I  love  you.  I  am  so  proud  of 
you — I — you  know  I  love  you,  don't  you  ?  " 

«  Yes— I  think  so." 

"  You  know  I  am  devoted  to  your  happiness !  — 
your  real  happiness — which  those  blinded  eyes  in  that 
obstinate  head  of  yours  refuse  to  see.  Believe  me — be 
lieve  me,  dear,  that  your  real  happiness  is  not  in  this 
pretty,  strange  girl's  keeping.  No,  no,  no!  You 

324 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


-are  wrong,  Louis — terribly  and  hopelessly  wrong! 
Because  happiness  for  you  lies  in  the  keeping  of  an 
other  woman — a  woman  of  your  own  world,  dear — of 
your  own  kind — a  gently-bred,  lovable,  generous  girl 
whom  you,  deep  in  your  heart  and  soul,  love,  unknow 
ingly — have  always  loved !  " 

He  shook  his  head,  slowly,  looking  down  into  his 
sister's  eyes. 

She  said,  almost  frightened: 

"  You — you  won't  do  it — suddenly — without  let 
ting  us  know — will  you,  Louis  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  Marry  this  girl !  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  likely." 

"  But  you — you  mean  to  marry  her?  " 

"  I  want  to.  ...  But  it  is  not  likely  to  happen — • 
for  a  while." 

"How  long?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

She  drew  a  tremulous  breath  of  relief,  looking  up 
into  his  face.  Then  her  eyes  narrowed;  she  thought  a 
moment,  and  her  gaze  became  preoccupied  and  remote, 
and  her  lips  grew  firm  with  the  train  of  thought  she 
was  pursuing. 

He  put  his  arms  around  her  and  kissed  her  again; 
and  she  felt  the  boyish  appeal  in  it  and  her  lip  quiv 
ered.  But  she  could  not  respond,  could  not  consider 
for  one  moment,  could  not  permit  her  sympathy  for 
him  to  enlist  her  against  what  she  was  devoutly  con 
vinced  were  his  own  most  vital  interests — his  honour, 
his  happiness,  the  success  of  his  future  career. 

She  said  with  tears  in  her  eyes :  "  Louis,  I  love  you 
dearly.  If  God  will  grant  us  all  a  little  patience  and 

325 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


a  little  wisdom  there  will  be  a  way  made  clear  to  all  of 
us.     Good-bye." 

Whether  it  was  that  the  Almighty    did   not    grant 
Mrs.  Collis  the  patience  to  wait  until  a  way  was  made 


"Your — profession — must    be    an    exceedingly   interesting  one,'  said 

Lily." 

clear,  or  whether  another  letter  from  her  father  decided 
her  to  clear  that  way  for  herself,  is  uncertain ;  but  one 
day  in  March  Valerie  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Collis ; 
and  answered  it;  and  the  next  morning  she  shortened 
a  seance  with  Querida,  exchanged  her  costume  for  her 
street-clothes,  and  hastened  to  her  apartments,  where 
Mrs.  Collis  was  already  awaiting  her  in  the  little  sit 
ting-room. 

326 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Valerie  offered  her  hand  and  stood  looking  at  Lily 
Collis,  as  though  searching  for  some  resemblance  to  her 
brother  in  the  pretty,  slightly  flushed  features.  There 
was  a  very  indefinite  family  resemblance. 

"  Miss  West,"  she  said,  "  it  is  amiable  of  you  to 
overlook  the  informality " 

"  I  am  not  formal,  Mrs.  Collis,"  she  said,  quietly. 
"  Will  you  sit  here?  "  indicating  an  arm-chair  near  the 
window, — "  because  the  light  is  not  very  good  and  I 
have  some  mending  to  do  on  a  costume  which  I  must 
pose  in  this  afternoon." 

Lily  Collis  seated  herself,  her  bewitched  gaze  fol 
lowing  Valerie  as  she  moved  lightly  and  gracefully 
about,  collecting  sewing  materials  and  the  costume  in 
question,  and  bringing  them  to  a  low  chair  under  the 
north  window. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not  mind  my  sewing,"  she  said, 
with  a  slight  upward  inflection  to  her  voice,  which 
made  it  a  question. 

66  Please,  Miss  West,"  said  Lily,  hastily. 

"  It  is  really  a  necessity,"  observed  Valerie  thread 
ing  her  needle  and  turning  over  the  skirt.  "  Il 
lustrators  are  very  arbitrary  gentlemen ;  a  model's  fail 
ure  to  keep  an  engagement  sometimes  means  loss  of  a 
valuable  contract  to  them,  and  that  isn't  fair  either  to 
them  or  to  their  publishers,  who  would  be  forced  to 
hunt  up  another  artist  at  the  last  moment." 

"  Your — profession — must  be  an  exceedingly  in 
teresting  one,"  said  Lily  in  a  low  voice. 

Valerie  smiled :     "  It  is  a  very  exacting  one." 

There  was  a  silence.  Valerie's  head  was  bent  over 
her  sewing;  Mrs.  Collis,  fascinated,  almost  alarmed  by 
her  beauty,  could  not  take  her  eyes  from  her.  Out- 

327 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


wardly  Lily  was  pleasantly  reserved,  perfectly  at  ease 
with  this  young  girl;  inwardly  all  was  commotion  ap 
proaching  actual  consternation. 

She  had  been  prepared  for  youth,  for  a  certain  kind 
of  charm  and  beauty — but  not  for  this  kind — not 
for  the  loveliness,  the  grace,  the  composure,  the  exquis 
ite  simplicity  of  this  young  girl  who  sat  sewing  there 
before  her. 

She  was  obliged  to  force  herself  to  recollect  that 
this  girl  was  a  model  hired  to  pose  for  men — paid  to 
expose  her  young,  unclothed  limbs  and  body!  Yet — 
could  it  be  possible!  Was  this  the  girl  hailed  as  a 
comrade  by  the  irrepressible  Ogilvy  and  Annan — the 
heroine  of  a  score  of  unconventional  and  careless  gaie 
ties  recounted  by  them?  Was  this  the  coquette  who,  it 
was  rumoured,  had  flung  over  Querida,  snapped  her 
white  fingers  at  Penrhyn  Cardemon,  and  laughed  dis 
respectfully  at  a  dozen  respected  pillars  of  society,  who 
appeared  to  be  willing  to  support  her  in  addition  to  the 
entire  social  structure? 

Very  quietly  the  girl  raised  her  head.  Her  sensitive 
lips  were  edged  with  a  smile,  but  there  was  no  mirth  in 
her  clear  eyes : 

"  Mrs.  Collis,  perhaps  you  are  waiting  for  me  to 
say  something  about  your  letter  and  my  answer  to  it. 
I  did  not  mean  to  embarrass  you  by  not  speaking  of  it, 
but  I  was  not  certain  that  the  initiative  lay  with  me.'* 

Lily  reddened :  "  It  lies  with  me,  Miss  West — the 
initiative.  I  mean —  She  hesitated,  suddenly  realis 
ing  how  difficult  it  had  become  to  go  on, — how  utterly 
unprepared  she  was  to  encounter  passive  resistance 
from  such  composure  as  this  young  girl  already  dis 
played. 

328 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


66  You  wrote  to  me  about  your  anxiety  concerning 
Mr.  Neville,"  said  Valerie,  gently. 

"  Yes — I  did,  Miss  West.  You  will  surely  under 
stand — and  forgive  me — if  I  say  to  you  that  I  am  still 
a  prey  to  deepest  anxiety." 

"Why?" 

The  question  was  so  candid,  so  direct  that  for  a 
moment  Lily  remained  silent.  But  the  dark,  clear, 
friendly  eyes  were  asking  for  an  answer,  and  the  woman 
of  the  world  who  knew  how  to  meet  most  situations  and 
how  to  dominate  them,  searched  her  experience  in  vain 
for  the  proper  words  to  use  in  this  one. 

After  a  moment  Valerie's  eyes  dropped,  and  she  re 
sumed  her  sewing;  and  Lily  bit  her  lip  and  composed 
her  mind  to  its  delicate  task: 

"  Miss  West,"  she  said,  "  what  I  have  to  say  is  not 
going  to  be  very  agreeable  to  either  of  us.  It  is  going 
to  be  painful  perhaps — and  it  is  going  to  take  a  long 
while  to  explain " 

"  It  need  not  take  long,"  said  Valerie,  without  rais 
ing  her  eyes  from  her  stitches ;  "  it  requires  only  a  word 
to  tell  me  that  you  and  your  father  and  mother  do  not 
wish  your  brother  to  marry  me." 

She  looked  up  quietly,  and  her  eyes  met  Lily's : 

"  I  promise  not  to  marry  him,"  she  said.  "  You 
are  perfectly  right.  He  belongs  to  his  own  family ;  he 
belongs  in  his  own  world." 

She  looked  down  again  at  her  sewing  with  a  faint 
smile : 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  enter  that  world  as  his  wife, 
Mrs.  Collis,  or  to  draw  him  out  of  it.  ...  And  I  hope 
that  you  will  not  be  anxious  any  more." 

She  laid  aside  her  work  and  rose  to  her  slender 
329 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


height,  smilingly,  as  though  the  elder  woman  had  ter 
minated  the  interview;  and  Lily,  utterly  confounded, 
rose,  too,  as  Valerie  offered  her  hand  in  adieu. 

"  Miss  West,"  she  began,  not  perfectly  sure  of  what 
she  was  saying.  "  I — scarcely  dare  thank  you — for 
what  you  have  said — for — my — brother's — sake " 

Valerie  laughed :  "  I  would  do  much  more  than 
that  for  him,  Mrs.  Collis.  .  .  .  Only  I  must  first  be 
sure  of  what  is  really  the  best  way  to  serve  him." 

Lily's  gloved  hand  tightened  over  hers ;  and  she  laid 
the  other  one  over  it: 

"  You  are  so  generous,  so  sweet  about  it !  "  she  said 
unsteadily.  "And  I  look  into  your  face  and  I  know 
you  are  good — good — all  the  way  through " 

Valerie  laughed  again : 

"  There  isn't  any  real  evil  in  me.  .  .  .  And  I  am 
not  astonishingly  generous — merely  sensible.  I  knew 
from  the  first  that  I  couldn't  marry  him — if  I  really 
loved  him,"  she  added,  under  her  breath. 

They  were  at  the  door  now.  Lily  passed  out  into 
the  entry,  halted,  turned  impulsively,  the  tears  in  her 
eyes,  and  put  both  arms  tenderly  around  the  girl. 

"  You  poor  child,"  she  whispered.  "  You  dear, 
brave,  generous  girl!  God  knows  whether  I  am  right 
or  wrong.  I  am  only  trying  to  do  my  duty — trying  to 
do  what  is  best  for  him." 

Valerie  looked  at  her  curiously: 

"  Yes,  you  cannot  choose  but  think  of  him  if  you 
really  love  him.  ...  That  is  the  way  it  is  with  love." 


Afterward,  sewing  by  the  window,  she  could 
scarcely  see  the  stitches  for  the  clinging  tears.  But 
they  dried  on  her  lashes ;  not  one  fell.  And  when  Rita 

330 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


came  in  breezily  to  join  her  at  luncheon  she  was  ready, 
her  costume  mended  and  folded  in  her  hand-satchel,  and 
there  remained  scarcely  even  a  redness  of  the  lids  to 
betray  her. 

That  evening  she  did  not  stop  for  tea  at  Neville's 
studio;  and,  later,  when  he  telephoned,  asking  her  to 
dine  with  him,  she  pleaded  the  feminine  prerogative  of 
tea  in  her  room  and  going  to  bed  early  for  a  change. 
But  she  lay  awake  until  midnight  trying  to  think  out 
a  modus  vivendi  for  Neville  and  herself  which  would 
involve  no  sacrifice  on  his  part  and  no  unhappiness  for 
anybody  except,  perhaps,  for  herself. 

The  morning  was  dull  and  threatened  rain,  and  she 
awoke  with  a  slight  headache,  remembering  that  she  had 
dreamed  all  night  of  weeping. 

In  her  mail  there  was  a  note  from  Querida  asking 
her  to  stop  for  a  few  moments  at  his  studio  that  after 
noon,  several  business  communications,  and  a  long  letter 
from  Mrs.  Collis  which  she  read  lying  in  bed,  one  hand 
resting  on  her  aching  temples : 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  WEST  :  Our  interview  this  morn 
ing  has  left  me  with  a  somewhat  confused  sense  of  in 
debtedness  to  you  and  an  admiration  and  respect  for 
your  character  which  I  wished  very  much  to  convey  to 
you  this  morning,  but  which  I  was  at  a  loss  to  express. 

"  You  are  not  only  kind  and  reasonable,  but  so  en 
tirely  unselfish  that  my  own  attitude  in  this  unhappy 
matter  has  seemed  to  me  harsh  and  ungracious. 

"  I  went  to  you  entertaining  a  very  different  idea  of 
you,  and  very  different  sentiments  from  the  opinion 
which  I  took  away  with  me.  I  admit  that  my  call  on 
you  was  not  made  with  any  agreeable  anticipations; 

331 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


but  I  was  determined  to  see  you  and  learn  for  myself 
what  manner  of  woman  had  so  disturbed  us  all. 

"  In  justice  to  you — in  grateful  recognition  of  your 
tact  and  gentleness,  I  am  venturing  to  express  to  you 
now  my  very  thorough  respect  for  you,  my  sense  of 
deep  obligation,  and  my  sympathy — which  I  am  afraid 
you  may  not  care  for. 

"  That  it  would  not  be  suitable  for  a  marriage  to 
take  place  between  my  brother  and  yourself  is,  it  ap 
pears,  as  evident  to  you  as  it  is  to  his  own  family.  Yet, 
will  you  permit  me  to  wish  that  it  were  otherwise  ?  I  do 
wish  it;  I  wish  that  the  circumstances  had  made  such  a 
marriage  possible.  I  say  this  to  you  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  we  have  always  expected  my  brother  to  marry 
into  a  family  which  has  been  intimate  with  our  own 
family  for  many  generations.  It  is  a  tribute  to  your 
character  which  I  am  unwilling  to  suppress;  which  I 
believe  I  owe  to  you,  to  say  that,  had  circumstances 
been  different,  you  might  have  been  made  welcome 
among  us. 

"  The  circumstances  of  which  I  speak  are  of  an  im 
portance  to  us,  perhaps  exaggerated,  possibly  out  of 
proportion  to  the  fundamental  conditions  of  the  situa 
tion.  But  they  are  conditions  which  our  family  has 
never  ignored.  And  it  is  too  late  for  us  to  learn  to 
ignore  them  now. 

"  I  think  that  you  will  feel— I  think  that  a  large 
part  of  the  world  might  consider  our  attitude  toward 
such  a  woman  as  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be,  nar 
row,  prejudiced,  provincial.  The  modern  world  would 
scarcely  arm  us  with  any  warrant  for  interfering  in  a 
matter  which  a  man  nearly  thirty  is  supposed  to  be  able 
to  manage  for  himself.  But  my  father  and  mother  are 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


old,  and  they  will  never  change  in  their  beliefs  and 
prejudices  inherited  from  their  parents,  who,  in  turn, 
inherited  their  beliefs. 

"  It  was  for  them  more  than  for  myself — more  even 
than  for  my  brother — that  I  appealed  to  you.  The 
latter  end  of  their  lives  should  not  be  made  unhappy. 
And  your  generous  decision  assures  me  that  it  will  not 
be  made  so. 

"  As  for  myself,  my  marriage  permitted  me  an  early 
enfranchisement  from  the  obsolete  conventional  limits 
within  which  my  brother  and  I  were  brought  up. 

"  I  understand  enough  of  the  modern  world  not  to 
clash  with  it  unnecessarily,  enough  of  ultra-modernity 
not  to  be  too  much  afraid  of  it. 

"  But  even  I,  while  I  might  theoretically  admit  and 
even  admire  that  cheerful  and  fearless  courage  which 
makes  it  possible  for  such  a  self-respecting  woman  as 
yourself  to  face  the  world  and  force  it  to  recognise  her 
right  to  earn  her  own  living  as  she  chooses — I  could 
not  bring  myself  to  contemplate  with  equanimity  my 
brother's  marrying  you.  And  I  do  not  believe  my 
father  would  survive  such  an  event. 

"  To  us,  to  me,  also,  certain  fixed  conventional  limits 
are  the  basis  of  all  happiness.  To  offend  them  is  to 
be  unhappy ;  to  ignore  them  would  mean  destruction  to 
our  peace  of  mind  and  self-respect.  And,  though  I  do 
admire  you  and  respect  you  for  what  you  are,  it  is  only 
just  to  you  to  say  that  we  could  never  reconcile  our 
selves  to  those  modern  social  conditions  which  you  so 
charmingly  represent,  and  which  are  embodied  in  you 
with  such  convincing  dignity. 

"  Dear  Miss  West,  have  I  pained  you?  Have  I 
offended  you  in  return  for  all  your  courtesy  to  me?  I 

333 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


hope  not.  I  felt  that  I  owed  you  this.  Please  accept 
it  as  a  tribute  and  as  a  sorrowful  acquiescence  in  con 
ditions  which  an  old-fashioned  family  are  unable  to 
change. 

66  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"  LILLY  COLLIS." 

She  lay  for  a  while,  thinking,  the  sheets  of  the  letter 
lying  loose  on  the  bed.  It  seemed  to  require  no  answer. 
Nor  had  Mrs.  Collis,  apparently,  any  fear  that  Valerie 
would  ever  inform  Louis  Neville  of  what  had  occurred 
between  his  sister  and  herself. 

Still,  to  Valerie,  an  unanswered  letter  was  like  a 
civil  observation  ignored. 

She  wrote  that  evening  to  Lily : 

66  DEAR  MRS.  COLLIS  :  In  acknowledging  your  letter 
of  yesterday  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  I  understand  the 
inadvisability  of  my  marrying  your  brother,  and  that 
I  have  no  idea  of  doing  it,  and  that,  through  me,  he 
shall  never  know  of  your  letters  or  of  your  visit  to  me 
in  his  behalf. 

"  With  many  thanks  for  your  kindly  expressions  of 
good- will  toward  me,  I  am 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"VALERIE  WEST." 

She  had  been  too  tired  to  call  at  Querida's  studio, 
too  tired  even  to  take  tea  at  the  Plaza  with  Neville. 

Rita  came  in,  silent  and  out  of  spirits,  and  replied 
in  monosyllables  to  Valerie's  inquiries. 

It  finally  transpired  that  Sam  Ogilvy  and  Harry 
Annan  had  been  tormenting  John  Burleson  after  their 

334 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


own  fashion  until  their  inanity  had  exasperated  her  and 
she  expressed  herself  freely  to  everybody  concerned. 

"  It  makes  me  very  angry,"  she  said,  "  to  have  a  lot 
of  brainless  people  believe  that  John  Burleson  is  stupid. 
He  isn't ;  he  is  merely  a  trifle  literal,  and  far  too  intelli 
gent  to  see  any  humour  in  the  silly  capers  Sam  and 
Harry  cut." 

Valerie,  who  was  feeling  better,  sipped  her  tea  and 
nibbled  her  toast,  much  amused  at  Rita's  championship 
of  the  big  sculptor. 

"  John  is  a  dear,"  she  said,  "  but  even  his  most  en 
thusiastic  partisans  could  hardly  characterise  him  as 
a  humorist." 

"  He's  not  a  clown — if  that's  what  you  mean,"  said 
Rita  shortly. 

"  But,  Rita,  he  isn't  humorous,  you  know." 

"  He  is.  He  has  a  sense  of  humour  perfectly  in 
telligible  to  those  who  understand  it." 

"Do  you,  dear?" 

"  Certainly.  .   .   .  And  I  always  have  understood  it." 

"  Oh,  what  kind  of  occult  humour  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  quiet,  cultivated,  dignified  sense  of  humour 
not  uncommon  in  New  England,  and  not  understood  in 
New  York." 

Valerie  nibbled  her  toast,  secretly  amused.  Bur 
leson  was  from  Massachusetts.  Rita  was  the  daughter 
of  a  Massachusetts  clergyman.  No  doubt  they  were 
fitted  to  understand  each  other. 

It  occurred  to  her,  too,  that  John  Burleson  and 
Rita  Tevis  had  always  been  on  a  friendly  footing 
rather  quieter  and  more  serious  than  the  usual  gay  and 
irresponsible  relations  maintained  between  two  people 
under  similar  circumstances. 

335 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Sometimes  she  had  noticed  that  when  affairs  became 
too  frivolous  and  the  scintillation  of  wit  and  epigram 
too  rapid  and  continuous,  John  Burleson  and  Rita  were 
very  apt  to  edge  out  of  the  circle  as  though  for  mutual 
protection. 

"  You're  not  posing  for  John,  are  you,  Rita?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No.  He  has  a  bad  cold,  and  I  stopped  in  to  see 
that  he  wore  a  red  flannel  bandage  around  his  throat. 
A  sculptor's  work  is  so  dreadfully  wet  and  sloppy,  and 
his  throat  has  always  been  very  delicate." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  charge  your  mind 
with  the  coddling  of  that  great  big,  pink-cheeked 
boy  ?  "  laughed  Valerie. 

"  Coddling ! "  repeated  Rita,  flushing  up.  "  I  don't 
call  it  coddling  to  stop  in  for  a  moment  to  remind  a 
friend  that  he  doesn't  know  how  to  take  care  of  himself, 
and  never  will." 

"  Nonsense.  You  couldn't  kill  a  man  of  that  size 
and  placidity  of  character." 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  him.  He  is  much 
more  delicate  than  he  looks." 

Valerie  glanced  curiously  at  the  girl,  who  was  pre 
paring  oysters  in  the  chafing  dish. 

"  How  do  you  happen  to  know  so  much  about  him, 
Rita?" 

She  answered,  carelessly :  "  I  have  known  him  ever 
since  I  began  to  pose — almost." 

Valerie  set  her  cup  aside,  sprang  up  to  rinse  mouth 
and  hands.  Then,  gathering  her  pink  negligee  around 
her,  curled  up  in  a  big  wing-chair,  drawing  her  bare 
feet  up  under  the  silken  folds  and  watching  Rita  pre 
pare  the  modest  repast  for  one. 

336 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Rita,"  she  said,  "  who  was  the  first  artist  you  ever 
posed  for?  Was  it  John  Burleson — and  did  you  en 
dure  the  tortures  of  the  damned?  " 

"  No,  it  was  not  John  Burleson.  .  .  .  And  I  en 
dured — enough." 

"  Don't  you  care  to  tell  me  who  it  was  ?  " 

Rita  did  not  reply  at  that  time.  Later,  however, 
when  the  simple  supper  was  ended,  she  lighted  a  cigar 
ette  and  found  a  place  where,  with  lamplight  behind 
her,  she  could  read  a  book  which  Burleson  had  sent 
her,  and  which  she  had  been  attempting  to  assimilate 
-and  digest  all  winter.  It  was  a  large,  thick,  dark 
book,  and  weighed  nearly  four  pounds.  It  was  called 
"  Essays  on  the  Obvious  " ;  and  Valerie  had  made  fun 
of  it  until,  to  her  surprise,  she  noticed  that  her  pleas 
antries  annoyed  Rita. 

Valerie,  curled  up  in  the  wing-chair,  cheek  resting 
against  its  velvet  side,  was  reading  the  Psalms  again 
— fascinated  as  always  by  the  noble  music  of  the  verse. 
And  it  was  only  by  chance  that,  lifting  her  eyes  ab 
sently  for  a  moment,  she  found  that  Rita  had  laid  aside 
her  book  and  was  looking  at  her  intently. 

"  Hello,  dear !  "  she  said,  indolently  humorous. 

Rita  said :  "  You  read  your  Bible  a  good  deal* 
don't  you?" 

"  Parts  of  it." 

"  The  parts  you  believe?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  the  parts  that  I  can't  believe." 

"  What  parts  can't  you  believe  ?  " 

Valerie  laughed :  "  Oh,  the  unfair  parts — the  cruel 
parts,  the  inconsistent  parts." 

"What  about  faith?" 

"  Faith  is  a  matter  of  temperament,  dear." 
337 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Haven't  you  any  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  all  things  good." 

"  Then    you   have   faith   in  yourself   that  you   are 


"It   was    a    large,    thick,    dark    book,    and    weighed    nearly    four 

pounds." 

capable  of  deciding  what  is  good  and  worthy  of  belief 
in  the  Scriptures,  and  what  is  unworthy?  " 

"  It  must  be  that  way.  I  am  intelligent.  One 
must  decide  for  one's  self  what  is  fair  and  what  is  un 
fair  ;  what  is  cruel  and  what  is  merciful  and  kind.  In- 

338 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


telligence  must  always  evolve  its  own  religion;  sin  is 
only  an  unfaithfulness  to  what  one  really  believes." 

"  What  do  you  believe,  Valerie?  " 

"About  what,  dear?" 

"  Love." 

"  Loving  a  man  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  know  what  my  creed  is — that  love  must  be 
utterly  unselfish  to  be  pure — to  be  love  at  all." 

"  One  must  not  think  of  one's  self,"  murmured 
Rita,  absently. 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean  that  one  must  not 
hesitate  to  sacrifice  one's  self  when  the  happiness  or 
welfare  of  the  other  is  in  the  balance." 

"  Yes.     Of  course !  .  .   .  Suppose  you  love  a  man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Valerie,  smiling,  "  I  can  imagine  that." 

"  Listen,  dear.  Suppose  you  love  a  man.  And 
you  think  that  perhaps  he  is  beginning — just  begin 
ning  to  care  a  little  for  you.  And  suppose — suppose 
that  you  are — have  been — long  ago — once,  very  long 
ago-  -" 

"What?" 

"  Unwise,"  said  Rita,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Unwise?     How?" 

"  In  the — unwisest  way  that  a  girl  can  be." 

"  You  mean  any  less  unwise  than  a  man  might  be — 
probably  the  very  man  she  is  in  love  with?  " 

"  You  know  well  enough  what  is  thought  about  a 
girl's  unwisdom  and  the  same  unwisdom  in  a  man." 

"  I  know  what  is  thought ;  but  /  don't  think  it." 

"  Perhaps  you  don't.  But  the  world's  opinion  is 
different." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.  ...  What  is  your  question 
339 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


again?  You  say  to  me,  here's  a  man  beginning  to 
care  for  a  girl  who  has  been  unwise  enough  before  she 
knew  him  to  let  herself  believe  she  cared  enough  for 
another  man  to  become  his  mistress.  Is  that  it,  Rita?  " 

"  Y-yes." 

"  Very  well.     What  do  you  wish  to  ask  me  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  ask  you  what  that  girl  should  do." 

"Do?     Nothing.     What  is  there  for  her  to  do?" 

"  Ought  she  to  let  that  man  care  for  her?  " 

"  Has  he  ever  made  the  same  mistake  she  has  ?  " 

"  I— don't  think  so." 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Almost." 

"  Well,  then,  I'd  tell  him." 

Rita  lay  silent,  gazing  into  space,  her  blond  hair 
clustering  around  the  pretty  oval  of  her  face. 

Valerie  waited  for  a  few  moments,  then  resumed  her 
reading,  glancing  inquiringly  at  intervals  over  the  top 
of  her  book  at  Rita,  who  seemed  disinclined  for  further 
conversation. 

After  a  long  silence  she  sat  up  abruptly  on  the  sofa 
and  looked  at  Valerie. 

"  You  asked  me  who  was  the  first  man  for  whom  I 
posed.  I'll  tell  you  if  you  wish  to  know.  It  was  Pen- 
rhyn  Cardemon!  .  .  .  And  I  was  eighteen  years  old." 

Valerie  dropped  her  book  in  astonishment. 

"Penrhyn  Cardemon!"  she  repeated.  "Why,  he 
isn't  an  artist !  " 

"  He  has  a  studio." 

"Where?" 

"  On  Fifth  Avenue." 

"  What  does  he  do  there?  " 

"  Deviltry." 

340 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Valerie's  face  was  blank;  Rita  sat  sullenly  cradling 
one  knee  in  her  arms,  looking  at  the  floor,  her  soft,  gold 
hair  hanging  over  her  face  and  forehead  so  that  it 
shadowed  her  face. 

"  I've  meant  to  tell  you  for  a  long  time,"  she  went 
on ;  "I  would  have  told  you  if  Cardemon  had  ever  sent 
for  you  to — to  pose — in  his  place." 

"  He  asked  me  to  go  on  The  Mohave." 

"  I'd  have  warned  you  if  Louis  Neville  had  not  ob 
jected." 

"  Do  you  suppose  Louis  knew  ?  " 

"  No.  He  scarcely  knows  Penrhyn  Cardemon. 
His  family  and  Cardemon  are  neighbours  in  the  coun 
try,  but  the  Nevilles  and  the  Collises  are  snobs — I'm 
speaking  plainly,  Valerie — and  they  have  no  use  for 
that  red-faced,  red-necked,  stocky  young  millionaire." 

Valerie  sat  thinking;  Rita,  nursing  her  knee, 
brooded  under  the  bright  tangle  of  her  hair,  linking 
and  unlinking  her  fingers  as  she  gently  swayed  her  foot 
to  and  fro. 

"  That's  how  it  is,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Now  you 
know." 

Valerie's  head  was  still  lowered,  but  she  raised  her 
eyes  and  looked  straight  at  Rita  where  she  sat  on  the 
sofa's  edge,  carelessly  swinging  her  foot  to  and  fro. 

"  Was  it — Penrhyn  Cardemon  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  ...  I  thought  it  had  killed  any  possibility 
of  ever  caring — that  way — for  any  other  man." 

"But  it  hasn't?" 

"  No." 

"  And — you  are  in  love  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"With  John  Burleson?" 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Rita  looked  up  from  the  burnished  disorder  of  her 
hair: 

"  I  have  been  in  love  with  him  for  three  years,"  she 
said,  "  and  you  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  except 
myself  who  knows  it." 

Valerie  rose  and  walked  over  to  Rita  and  seated 
herself  beside  her.  Then  she  put  one  arm  around  her; 
and  Rita  bit  her  lip  and  stared  at  space,  swinging  her 
slender  foot. 

"  You  poor  dear,"  said  Valerie.  Rita's  bare  foot 
hung  inert;  the  silken  slipper  dropped  from  it  to  the 
floor;  and  then  her  head  fell,  sideways,  resting  on  Val 
erie's  shoulder,  showering  her  body  with  its  tangled 
gold. 

Valerie  said,  thoughtfully :  "  Girls  don't  seem  to 
have  a  very  good  chance.  ...  I  had  no  idea  about 
Cardemon — that  he  was  that  kind  of  a  man.  A  girl 
never  knows.  Men  can  be  so  attractive  and  so  nice. 
.  .  .  And  so  many  of  them  are  merciless.  ...  I  sup 
pose  you  thought  you  loved  him." 

"  Y-yes." 

"  We  all  think  that,  I  suppose,"  said  Valerie, 
thoughtfully. 

"  Other  girls  have  thought    it    of  Penrhyn  Carde- 


"  Other  girls  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

Valerie's  face  expressed  bewilderment. 
"  I  didn't  know  that  there  were  really  such  men." 
Rita  closed  her  disillusioned  eyes. 
"  Plenty,"  she  said  wearily. 
"  I  don't  care  to  believe  that." 
"  You    may    believe   it,  Valerie.     Men    are    almost 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


never  single-minded;  women  are — almost  always.  You 
see  what  chance  for  happiness  we  have?  But  it's  the 
truth,  and  the  world  has  been  made  that  way.  It's  a 
man's  world,  Valerie.  I  don't  think  there's  much  use  for 
us  to  fight  against  it.  ...  She  sat  very  silent  for  a 
while,  close  to  Valerie,  her  hot  face  on  the  younger 
girl's  shoulder.  Suddenly  she  straightened  up  and 
dried  her  eyes  naively  on  the  sleeve  of  her  kimona. 
"  Goodness  !  "  she  said,  "  I  almost  forgot !  " 
And  a  moment  later  Valerie  heard  her  at  the  tele 
phone  : 

"Is  that  you,  John?" 

"  Have  you  remembered  to  take  your  medicine  ?  " 

"  How  perfectly  horrid  of  you !  Take  it  at  once  * 
It's  the  one  in  the  brown  bottle — six  drops  in  a  wine 
glass  of  water " 


CHAPTER    XII 

MRS.  HIND-WILLET,  born  to  the  purple — or  rather 
•entitled  to  a  narrow  border  of  discreet  mauve  on  all  oc 
casions  of  ceremony  in  Manhattan,  was  a  dreamer  of 
dreams.  One  of  her  dreams  concerned  her  hyphenated 
husband,  and  she  put  him  away;  another  concerned 
Penrhyn  Cardemon ;  and  she  woke  up.  But  the  per 
sistent  visualisation,  which  had  become  obsession,  of  a 
society  to  be  formed  out  of  the  massed  intellects  of 
Manhattan  regardless  of  race,  morals,  or  previous  con 
dition  of  social  servitude — a  gentle  intellectual  affinity 
which  knew  no  law  of  art  except  individual  inspiration, 
haunted  her  always.  And  there  was  always  her  own  set 
•to  which  she  could  retreat  if  desirable. 

She  had  begun  with  a  fashionable  and  semi-fash 
ionable  nucleus  which  included  Mrs.  Atherstane,  the 
Countess  d'Enver,  Latimer  Varyck,  Olaf  Dennison,  and 
Pedro  Carrillo,  and  then  enlarged  the  circle  from  those 
perpetual  candidates  squatting  anxiously  upon  the  so 
cial  step-ladder  all  the  way  from  the  bottom  to  the  top. 

The  result  was  what  Ogilvy  called  intellectual  local 
option ;  and  though  he  haunted  this  agglomeration  at 
times,  particularly  when  temporarily  smitten  by  a 
pretty  face  or  figure,  he  was  under  no  illusions  concern 
ing  it  or  the  people  composing  it. 

Returning  one  afternoon  from  a  reception  at  Mrs. 
Atherstane's  he  replied  to  Annan's  disrespectful  in 
quiries  and  injurious  observations: 

344 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  You're  on  to  that  joint,  Henry;  it's  a  saloon,  not 
a  salon ;  and  Art  is  the  petrified  sandwich.  Fix  me  a 
very,  ve-ry  high  one,  dearie,  because  little  sunshine  is 
in  love  again." 

"  Who  drew  the  lucky  number  ?  "  asked  Annan  with 
a  shrug. 

"  The  Countess  d'Enver.     She's  the  birdie." 

"Intellectually?" 

"  Oh,  she's  an  intellectual  four-flusher,  bless  her 
heart!  But  she  was  the  only  woman  there  who  didn't 
try  to  mentally  frisk  me.  We  lunch  together  soon, 
Henry." 

"  Where's  Count  hubby?  " 

"  Aloft.  She's  a  bird,"  he  repeated,  fondly  remi 
niscent  over  his  high-ball — "  and  I  myself  am  the  real 
ornithological  thing — the  species  that  Brooklyn  itself 
would  label  'boid'..  .  .  She  has  such  pretty,  confiding 
ways,  Harry." 

"  You'd  both  better  join  the  Audubon  Society  for 
Mutual  Protection,"  observed  Annan  dryly. 

"  I'll  stand  for  anything  she  stands  for  except 
that  social  Tenderloin;  I'll  join  anything  she  joins 
except  the  '  classes  now  forming 9  in  that  intellectual 
dance  hall.  By  the  way,  who  do  you  suppose  was 
there?" 

"The  police?" 

"  Naw — the  saloon  wasn't  raided,  though  '  Pro 
fessor  '  Carrillo's  poem  was  assez  raide.  Mek-mek- 
k-k-k!  But  oh,  the  ginky  pictures!  Oh,  the  Art 
Beautiful!  Aniline  rainbows  exploding  in  a  physical 
culture  school  couldn't  beat  that  omelette!  .  .  .  And 
guess  who  was  pouring  tea  in  the  centre  of  the  olio, 
Harry!" 

12  345 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  You?  "  inquired  Annan  wearily. 
"  Valerie  West." 

"  What  in  God's  name  has  that  bunch  taken  her 
up  for?" 

For  the  last  few  weeks  Valerie's  telephone  had  rung 
intermittently  summoning  her  to  conversation  with  Mrs. 
Hind-Willet. 

At  first  the  amiable  interest  displayed  by  Mrs. 
Hind-Willet  puzzled  Valerie  until  one  day,  returning 
to  her  rooms  for  luncheon,  she  found  the  Countess  d'En- 
ver's  brougham  standing  in  front  of  the  house  and  that 
discreetly  perfumed  lady  about  to  descend. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Valerie,  stopping  on  the 
sidewalk  and  offering  her  hand  with  a  frank  smile. 

"  I  came  to  call  on  you,"  said  the  over-dressed  little 
countess  ;  "  may  I  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you.  Will  you  come  upstairs  ? 
There  is  no  elevator." 

The  pretty  bejewelled  countess  arrived  in  the  liv 
ing  room  out  of  breath,  and  seated  herself,  flushed, 
speechless,  overcome,  her  little  white  gloved  hand  clutch 
ing  her  breast. 

Valerie,  accustomed  to  the  climb,  was  in  nowise  dis 
tressed;  and  went  serenely  about  her  business  while  the 
countess  was  recovering. 

"  I  am  going  to  prepare  luncheon ;  may  I  hope  you 
will  remain  and  share  it  with  me?  "  she  asked. 

The  countess  nodded,  slowly  recovering  her  breath 
and  glancing  curiously  around  the  room. 

"  You  see  I  have  only  an  hour  between  poses,"  ob 
served  Valerie,  moving  swiftly  from  cupboard  to  kitch 
enette,  "  so  luncheon  is  always  rather  simple.  Miss 

346 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Tevis,  with  whom  I  live,  never  lunches  here,  so  I  take 
what  there  is  left  from  breakfast." 

A  little  later  they  were  seated  at  a  small  table  to 
gether,    sipping    chocolate.     There    was   cold   meat,   a 


The  Countess  d'Enver. 


light  salad,  and  fruit.  The  conversation  was  as  hap 
hazard  and  casual  as  the  luncheon,  until  the  pretty 
countess  lighted  a  cigarette  and  tasted  her  tiny  glass 
of  Port — the  latter  a  gift  from  Querida. 

347 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Do  you  think  it  odd  of  me  to  call  on  you  unin 
vited?  "  she  asked,  with  that  smiling  abruptness  which 
sometimes  arises  from  embarrassment. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  sweet  of  you,"  said  Valerie.  "  I 
am  very  happy  to  know  that  you  remember  me." 

The  countess  flushed  up :  "  Do  you  really  feel  that 
way  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Valerie,  smiling,  "  or  I  would  not 
say  so." 

"  Then — you  give  me  courage  to  tell  you  that  since 
I  first  met  you  I've  been — quite  mad  about  you." 

"  About  me!  "  in  smiling  surprise. 

"  Yes.  I  wanted  to  know  you.  I  told  Mrs.  Hind- 
Willet  to  ask  you  to  the  club.  She  did.  But  you 
never  came.  .  .  .  And  I  did  like  you  so  much." 

Valerie  said  in  a  sweet,  surprised  way :  "  Do  you 
know  what  I  am?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  sit  for  artists." 

"  I  am  a  professional  model,"  said  Valerie.  "  I 
don't  believe  you  understood  that,  did  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  the  countess.  "  You  pose  for 
the  ensemble,  too." 

Valerie  looked  at  her  incredulously: 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  really  care  to  know  me  ? 
I,  an  artist's  model,  and  you,  the  Countess  d'Enver?  " 

"  I  was  Nellie  Jackson  before  that."  She  leaned 
across  the  table,  smiling,  with  heightened  colour ;  "  I 
believe  I'd  never  have  to  pretend  with  you.  The  minute 
I  saw  you  I  liked  you.  Will  you  let  me  talk  to  you  ?  " 

"  Y-yes." 

There  was  a  constrained  silence;  Helene  d'Enver 
touched  the  water  in  the  bowl  with  her  finger-tips,  dried 
them,  looked  up  at  Valerie,  who  rose.  Under  the  win- 

348 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


dow  there  was  a  tufted  seat ;  and  here  they  found  places 
together. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  came  ?  "  asked  Helene  d'En- 
ver.  "  I  was  lonely." 

"  You!  " 

"  My  dear,  I  am  a  lonely  woman ;  I'm  lonely  to  des 
peration.  I  don't  belong  in  New  York  and  I  don't  be 
long  in  France,  and  I  don't  like  Pittsburgh.  I'm  lone 
ly!  I've  always  been  lonely  ever  since  I  left  Pitts 
burgh.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  definite  place 
anywhere  for  me.  And  I  haven't  a  real  woman  friend  in 
the  world!" 

"  How  in  the  world  can  you  say  that  ?  "  exclaimed 
Valerie,  astonished. 

The  countess  lighted  another  cigarette  and 
wreathed  her  pretty  face  in  smoke. 

"  You  think  because  I  have  a  title  and  am  present 
able  that  I  can  go  anywhere?  "  She  smiled.  "  The 
society  I  might  care  for  hasn't  the  slightest  interest  in 
me.  There  is  in  this  city  a  kind  of  society  recruited 
largely  from  the  fashionable  hotels  and  from  among 
those  who  have  no  fixed  social  position  in  New  York — 
people  who  are  never  very  far  outside  or  inside  the 
edge  of  things — but  who  never  penetrate  any  farther." 
She  laughed.  "  This  society  camps  permanently  at  the 
base  of  the  Great  Wall  of  China.  But  it  never  scales 
it." 

"  Watch  the  men  on  Fifth  Avenue,"  she  went  on. 
"  Some  walk  there  as  though  they  do  not  belong  there ; 
some  walk  as  though  they  do  belong  there;  some,  as 
though  they  lived  there.  I  move  about  as  though  I 
belonged  where  I  am  occasionally  seen;  but  I'm  tired 
of  pretending  that  I  live  there." 

349 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


She  leaned  back  among  the  cushions,  dropping  one 
knee  over  the  other  and  tossing  away  her  cigarette. 
And  her  little  suede  shoe  swung  nervously  to  and  fro. 

"  You're  the  first  girl  I've  seen  in  New  York  who, 
I  believe,  really  doesn't  care  what  I  am — and  I  don't 
care  what  she  is.  Shall  we  be  friends?  I'm  lonely." 

Valerie  looked  at  her,  diffidently: 

"  I  haven't  had  very  much  experience  in  friendship 
— except  with  Rita  Tevis,"  she  said. 

66  Will  you  let  me  take  you  to  drive  sometimes?  " 

"  I'd  love  to,  only  you  see  I  am  in  business." 

"  Of  course  I  mean  after  hours." 

"  Thank  you.  .  .  .  But  I  usually  am  expected — to 
tea — and  dinner " 

Helene  lay  back  among  the  cushions,  looking  at  her. 

"  Haven't  you  any  time  at  all  for  me?  "  she  asked, 
wistfully. 

Valerie  was  thinking  of  Neville :  "  Not — very — 
much  I  am  afraid " 

"  Can't  you  spare  me  an  hour  now  and  then  ?  " 

"  Y-yes  ;  I'll  try." 

There  was  a  silence.  The  mantel  clock  struck,  and 
Valerie  glanced  up.  Helene  d'Enver  rose,  stood  still 
a  moment,  then  stepped  forward  and  took  both  of  Va 
lerie's  hands: 

"  Can't  we  be  friends  ?  I  do  need  one ;  and  I  like 
you  so  much.  You've  the  eyes  that  make  a  woman 
easy.  There  are  none  like  yours  in  New  York." 

Valerie  laughed,  uncertainly. 

"  Your  friends  wouldn't  care  for  me,"  she  said.  "  I 
don't  believe  there  is  any  real  place  at  all  for  me  in  this 
city  except  among  the  few  men  and  women  I  already 
know." 

350 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Won't  you  include  me  among  the  number  ? 
There  is  a  place  for  you  in  my  heart." 

Touched  and  surprised,  the  girl  stood  looking  at 
the  older  woman  in  silence. 

"  May  I  drive  you  to  your  destination  ? "  asked 
Helene  gently. 

"  You  are  very  kind.  ...  It  is  Mr.  Burleson's 
studio — if  it  won't  take  you  too  far  out  of  your  way." 


By  the  end  of  March  Valerie  had  driven  with  the 
Countess  d'Enver  once  or  twice ;  and  once  or  twice  had 
been  to  see  her,  and  had  met,  in  her  apartment,  men  and 
women  who  were  inclined  to  make  a  fuss  over  her — men 
like  Carrillo  and  Dennison,  and  women  like  Mrs.  Hind- 
Willet  and  Mrs.  Atherstane.  It  was  her  unconventional 
profession  that  interested  them. 

To  Neville,  recounting  her  experiences,  she  said 
with  a  patient  little  smile: 

"  It's  rather  nice  to  be  liked  and  to  have  some  kind 
of  a  place  among  people  who  live  in  this  city.  Nobody 
seems  to  mind  my  being  a  model.  Perhaps  they  have 
taken  merely  a  passing  fancy  to  me  and  are  exhib 
iting  me  to  each  other  as  a  wild  thing  just  captured 
and  being  trained — "  She  laughed — "  but  they  do 
it  so  pleasantly  that  I  don't  mind.  .  .  .  And  any 
way,  the  Countess  d'Enver  is  genuine;  I  am  sure  of 
that." 

"  A  genuine  countess  ?  " 

"  A  genuine  woman,  sincere,  lovable,  and  kind — I 
am  becoming  very  fond  of  her.  .  .  .  Do  you  mind  my 
abandoning  you  for  an  afternoon  now  and  then? 
Because  it  is  nice  to  have  as  a  friend  a  woman  older  and 
more  experienced." 

351 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Does  that  mean  you're  going  off  with  her  this 
afternoon  ?  " 

"  I  was  going.  But  I  won't  if  you  feel  that  I'm 
deserting  you." 

He  laid  aside  his  palette  and  went  over  to  where  she 
was  standing. 

"  You  darling,"  he  said,  "  go  and  drive  in  the  Park 
with  your  funny  little  friend." 

"  She  was  going  to  take  me  to  the  Plaza  for  tea. 
There  are  to  be  some  very  nice  wromen  there  who  are 
interested  in  the  New  Idea  Home."  She  added,  shyly, 
"  I  have  subscribed  ten  dollars." 

He  kissed  her,  lightly,  humorously.  "  And  what, 
sweetheart,  may  the  New  Idea  Home  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  an  idea  of  Mrs.  Hind-Willet's  about  car 
ing  for  wayward  girls.  Mrs.  Willet  thinks  that  it  is 
cruel  and  silly  to  send  them  into  virtual  imprisonment, 
to  punish  them  and  watch  them  and  confront  them  at 
every  turn  with  threats  and  the  merciless  routine  of 
discipline.  She  thinks  that  the  thing  to  do  is  to  give 
them  a  chance  for  sensible  and  normal  happiness ;  not 
to  segregate  them  one  side  of  a  dead  line ;  not  to  treat 
them  like  criminals  to  be  watched  and  doubted  and  sus 
pected." 

She  linked  her  arms  around  his  neck,  interested, 
earnest,  sure  of  his  sympathy  and  approval: 

"  We  want  to  build  a  school  in  the  country — two 
schools,  one  for  girls  who  have  misbehaved,  one  for 
youths  who  are  similarly  delinquent.  And,  during 
recreation,  wre  mean  to  let  them  meet  in  a  natural  man 
ner — play  games  together,  dance,  mingle  out  of  doors 
in  a  wholesome  and  innocent  way — of  course,  under 
necessary  and  sympathetic  supervision — and  learn  a 

352 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


healthy  consideration  and  respect  for  one  another  which 
the  squalid,  crowded,  irresponsible  conditions  of  their 
former  street  life  in  the  slums  and  tenements  made  ut 
terly  impossible." 

He  looked  into  the  pretty,  eager  face  with  its  hon 
est,  beautiful  eyes  and  sensitive  mouth — and  touched 
his  lips  to  her  hair. 

"  It  sounds  fine,  sweetheart,"  he  said :  "  and  I 
won't  be  lonely  if  you  go  to  the  Plaza  and  settle  the 
affairs  of  this  topsy-turvy  world.  .  .  .  Do  you  love 
me?" 

"  Louis  !     Can  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  do  ask." 

She  smiled,  faintly;  then  her  young  face  grew  seri 
ous,  and  a  hint  of  passion  darkened  her  eyes  as  her 
arms  tightened  around  his  neck  and  her  lips  met 
his. 

"  All  I  care  for  in  the  world,  or  out  of  it,  is  you, 
Louis.  If  I  find  pleasure  in  anything  it  is  because  of 
you ;  if  I  take  a  little  pride  in  having  people  like  me,  it 
is  only  for  your  sake — for  the  sake  of  the  pride  you 
may  feel  in  having  others  find  me  agreeable  and  desir 
able.  I  wish  it  were  possible  that  your  own  world  could 
find  me  agreeable  and  desirable — for  your  sake,  my 
darling,  more  than  for  mine.  But  it  never  will — never 
could.  There  is  a  wall  around  your  world  which  I  can 
never  scale.  And  it  does  not  make  me  unhappy — I 
only  wish  you  to  know  that  I  want  to  be  what  you  would 
have  me — and  if  I  can't  be  all  that  you  might  wish,  I 
love  and  adore  you  none  the  less — am  none  the  less  will 
ing  to  give  you  all  there  is  to  me — all  there  is  to  a  girl 
named  Valerie  West  who  finds  this  life  a  happy  one 
because  you  have  made  it  so  for  her." 

353 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


She  continued  to  see  Helene  d'Enver,  poured  tea 
sometimes  at  the  Five-Minute-Club,  listened  to  the 
consultations  over  the  New  Idea  Home,  and  met  a  great 
many  people  of  all  kinds,  fashionable  women  with  a 
passion  for  the  bizarre  and  unconventional,  women  of 
gentle  breeding  and  no  social  pretence,  who  worked  to 
support  themselves ;  idle  women,  ambitious  women,  rest 
less  women;  but  the  majority  formed  part  of  the  float 
ing  circles  domiciled  in  apartments  and  at  the  great 
hotels — people  who  wintered  in  New  York  and  were  a 
part  of  its  social  and  civic  life  to  that  extent,  but  whose 
duties  and  responsibilities  for  the  metropolitan  welfare 
were  self-imposed,  and  neither  hereditary  nor  constant. 

As  all  circles  in  New  York  have,  at  certain  irregular 
periods,  accidental  points  of  temporary  contact,  Valerie 
now  and  then  met  people  whom  she  was  scarcely  ever, 
likely  to  see  again.  And  it  was  at  a  New  Idea  Home 
conference,  scheduled  for  five  o'clock  in  the  red  parlour 
of  the  ladies'  waiting  room  in  the  great  Hotel  Impera- 
tor,  that  Valerie,  arriving  early  as  delegated  substitute 
for  Mrs.  Hind-Willet,  found  herself  among  a  small 
group  of  beautifully  gowned  strangers — the  sort  of 
women  whom  she  had  never  before  met  in  this  way. 

They  all  knew  each  other;  others  who  arrived 
seemed  to  recognise  with  more  or  less  intimacy  every 
body  in  the  room  excepting  herself. 

She  was  sitting  apart  by  the  crimson-curtained 
windows,  perfectly  self-possessed  and  rather  interested 
in  watching  the  arrivals  of  women  whose  names,  as 
she  caught  them,  suggested  social  positions  which  were 
vaguely  familiar  to  her,  when  an  exceedingly  pretty 
girl  detached  herself  from  the  increasing  group  and 
came  across  to  where  Valerie  was  sitting  alone. 

354 


" '  May  I  sit  here  with  you  until  she  arrives?  I  am  Stephanie  Swift.'  n 

"  I  was  wondering  whether  you  had  met  any  of  the 
new  committee,"  she  said  pleasantly. 

"  I  had  expected  to  meet  the  Countess  d'Enver  here," 
said  Valerie,  smiling. 

The  girl's  expression  altered  slightly,  but  she 
nodded  amiably ;  "  May  I  sit  here  with  you  until  she 
arrives?  I  am  Stephanie  Swift." 

Valerie  said :  "  It  is  very  amiable  of  you.  I  am 
Valerie  West." 

Stephanie  remained  perfectly  still  for  a  moment; 
then,  conscious  that  she  was  staring,  calmly  averted  her 
gaze  while  the  slow  fire  died  out  in  her  cheeks.  And  in 
a  moment  she  had  decided : 

"  I  have  heard  so  pleasantly  about  you  through 
355 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Mrs.  Collis,"  she  said  with  perfect  composure.  "  You 
remember  her,  I  think." 

Valerie,  startled,  lifted  her  brown  eyes.  Then  very 
quietly : 

"  Mrs.  Collis  is  very  kind.  I  remember  her  dis 
tinctly." 

"  Mrs.  Collis  retains  the  most  agreeable  memories 
of  meeting  you.  .  .  .  I — "  she  looked  at  Valerie,  curi 
ously — "  I  have  heard  from  others  how  charming 
and  clever  you  are — from  Mr.  Ogilvy? — and  Mr. 
Annan  ?  " 

"  They  are  my  friends,"  said  Valerie  briefly. 

"  And  Mr.  Querida,  and  Mr.  Burleson,  and — Mr. 
Neville." 

"  They  are  my  friends,"  repeated  Valerie.  .  .  . 
After  a  second  she  added:  "  They  also  employ  me." 

Stephanie  looked  away :  "  Your  profession  must  be 
most  interesting,  Miss  West." 

"  Yes." 

"  But— exacting." 

"  Very." 

Neither  made  any  further  effort.  A  moment  later, 
however,  Helene  d'Enver  came  in.  She  knew  some  of 
the  women  very  slightly,  none  intimately ;  and,  catching 
sight  of  Valerie,  she  came  across  the  room  with  a  quick 
smile  of  recognition : 

"  I'm  dreadfully  late,  dear — how  do  you  do,  Miss 
Swift  "  —to  Stephanie,  who  had  risen.  And  to  Valerie : 
"  Mr.  Ogilvy  came  just  as  I  had  my  furs  on — and  you 
know  how  casually  a  man  takes  his  leave  when  you're  in 
a  tearing  hurry !  " 

She  laughed  and  took  Valerie's  gloved  hands  in  her 
own;  and  Stephanie,  who  had  been  looking  at  the  lat- 

356 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


ter,  came  to  an  abrupt  conclusion  that  amazed  her ;  and 
she  heard  herself  saying: 

"  It  has  been  most  interesting  to  meet  you,  Miss 
West.  I  have  heard  of  you  so  pleasantly  that  I  had 
hoped  to  meet  you  some  time.  And  I  hope  I  shall 
again." 

Valerie  thanked  her  with  a  self-possession  which  she 
did  not  entirely  feel,  and  turned  away  with  Helene 
d'Enver. 

"  That's  the  girl  who  is  supposed  to  be  engaged  to 
Louis  Neville,"  whispered  the  pretty  countess. 

Valerie  halted,  astounded. 

"  Didn't  you  know  it?  "  asked  the  other,  surprised. 

For  a  moment  Valerie  remained  speechless,  then  the 
wild  absurdity  of  it  flashed  over  her  and  she  laughed 
her  relief. 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  it,"  she  said. 

"Hasn't  anybody  ever  told  you?" 

"  No,"  said  Valerie,  smiling. 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  isn't  so,  then,"  said  the  countess 
naively.  "  I  know  very  few  people  of  that  set,  but  I've 
heard  it  talked  about — outside." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  so,"  said  Valerie  demurely. 
Her  little  heart  was  beating  confidently  again  and  she 
seated  herself  beside  Helene  d'Enver  in  the  prim  circle 
of  delegates  intent  upon  their  chairman,  who  was  call 
ing  the  meeting  to  order. 

The  meeting  was  interesting  and  there  were  few 
feminine  clashes — merely  a  smiling  and  deadly  exchange 
of  amenities  between  a  fashionable  woman  who  was  an 
ardent  advocate  of  suffrage,  and  an  equally  distin 
guished  lady  who  was  scornfully  opposed  to  it.  But 
the  franchise  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the  discus- 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


sion  concerning  the  New  Idea  Home,  which  is  doubtless 
why  it  was  mentioned;  and  the  meeting  of  delegates 
proceeded  without  further  debate. 

After  it  was  ended  Valerie  hurried  away  to  keep  an 
appointment  with  Neville  at  Burleson's  studio,  and 
found  the  big  sculptor  lying  on  the  sofa,  neck  swathed 
in  flannel,  and  an  array  of  medicine  bottles  at  his  el 
bow. 

"  Can't  go  to  dinner  with  you,"  he  said ;  "  Rita 
won't  have  it.  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me,  but 
she  made  me  lie  down  here,  and  I've  promised  to  stay 
here  until  she  returns." 

"  John,  you  don't  look  very  well,"  said  Valerie,  com 
ing  over  and  seating  herself  by  his  side. 

"  I'm  all  right,  except  that  I  catch  cold  now  and 
then,"  he  insisted  obstinately. 

Valerie  looked  at  the  pink  patches  of  colour  burning 
in  his  cheeks.  There  was  a  transparency  to  his 
skin,  too,  that  troubled  her.  He  was  one  of  those 
big,  blond,  blue-eyed  fellows  whose  vivid  colour  and 
fine-grained,  delicate  skin  caused  physicians  to  look 
twice. 

He  had  been  reading  when  Valerie  entered ;  now  he 
laid  his  ponderous  book  away,  doubled  his  arms  back 
under  his  head  and  looked  at  Valerie  with  the  placid, 
bovine  friendliness  which  warmed  her  heart  but  always 
left  a  slight  smile  in  the  corner  of  her  mouth. 

"Why  do  you  always  smile  at  me,  Valerie?"  he 
asked. 

"  Because  you're  good,  John,  and  I  like  you." 

"  I  know  you  do.  You're  a  fine  woman,  Valerie, 
L  .  .  So  is  Rita." 

"  Rita  is  a  darling." 

358 


"'John,  you  don't  look  very  well,'  said  Valerie." 


"  She's  all  right,"  he  nodded.     A  moment  later  he 
added :  "  She  comes  from  Massachusetts." 

Valerie    laughed :    "  The   sacred   codfish   smiled   on 
your  cradle,  too,  didn't  it,  John?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  God,"  he  said  seriously.  .  .  .  "  I  was 
born  in  the  old  town  of  Hitherford." 

"  How  funny !  "  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"What    is    there    funny    about    that?"    demanded 
John. 

"  Why,  Rita  was  born  in  Hitherford." 

"  Hitherford     Centre,"      corrected     John, 
father  was  a  clergyman  there." 

"  Oh ;  so  you  knew  it  ?  " 
359 


Her 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  I  knew,  of  course,  that  she  was  from  Massachu 
setts,"  said  John,  "  because  she  speaks  English  prop 
erly.  So  I  asked  her  where  she  was  born  and  she  told 
me.  .  .  .  My  grandfather  knew  hers." 

"  Isn't  it — curious,"  mused  the  girl. 

"What's  curious?" 

"  Your  meeting  this  way — as  sculptor  and  model." 

"  Rita  is  a  very  fine  girl,"  he  said.  "  Would  you 
mind  handing  me  my  pipe?  No,  don't.  I  forgot  that 
Rita  won't  let  me.  You  see  my  chest  is  rather  uncom 
fortable." 

He  glanced  at  the  clock,  leaned  over  and  gulped 
down  some  medicine,  then  placidly  folding  his  hands, 
lay  back: 

"How's  Kelly?" 

"  I  haven't  seen  him  to-day,  John." 

"  Well,  he  ought  to  be  here  very  soon.  He  can 
take  you  and  Rita  to  dinner." 

"  I'm  so  sorry  you  can't  come." 

"  So  am  I." 

Valerie  laid  a  cool  hand  on  his  face;  he  seemed 
slightly  feverish.  Rita  came  in  at  that  moment,  smiled 
at  Valerie,  and  went  straight  to  Burleson's  couch : 

"  Have  you  taken  your  medicine  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

She  glanced  at  the  bottles.  "  Men  are  so  horridly 
untruthful,"  she  remarked  to  Valerie ;  "  and  this 
great,  lumbering  six-footer  hasn't  the  sense  of  a 
baby " 

"  I  have,  too ! "  roared  John,  indignantly ;  and  Va 
lerie  laughed  but  Rita  scarcely  smiled. 

"  He's  always  working  in  a  puddle  of  wet  clay  and 
he's  always  having  colds  and  coughing,  and  there's  al- 

360 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


ways  more  or  less  fever,"  she  said,  looking  down  at  the 
huge  young  fellow.  "  I  know  that  he  ought  to  give 
up  his  work  and  go  away  for  a  while — 

"Where?"  demanded  Burleson  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  somewhere — where  there's  plenty  of — air. 
Like  Arizona,  and  Colorado. 

"  Do  you  think  there's  anything  the  matter  with 
my  lungs  ?  "  he  roared. 

"  No ! — you  perfect  idiot !  "  said  Rita,  seating  her 
self  ;  "  and  if  you  shout  that  way  at  me  again  I'll  go  to 
dinner  with  Kelly  and  Valerie  and  leave  you  here  alone. 
I  will  not  permit  you  to  be  uncivil,  John.  Please  re 
member  it." 

Neville  arrived  in  excellent  spirits,  greeted  every 
body,  and  stood  beside  Valerie,  carelessly  touching  the 
tip  of  his  fingers  to  hers  where  they  hung  at  her  side. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  John?  Rita,  isn't 
he  coming?  I've  a  taxi  outside  ruining  me." 

"  John  has  a  bad  cold  and  doesn't  care  to  go " 

"Yes,  I  do!"  growled  John. 

"  And  he  doesn't  care  to  risk  contracting  pneu 
monia,"  continued  Rita  icily,  "  and  he  isn't  going,  any 
way.  And  if  he  behaves  like  a  man  instead  of  an  over 
grown  baby,  I  have  promised  to  stay  and  dine  with 
him  here.  Otherwise  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  Sure.  You'd  better  stay  indoors,  John.  You 
ought  to  buck  up  and  get  rid  of  that  cold.  It's  been 
hanging  on  all  winter." 

Burleson  rumbled  and  grumbled  and  shot  a  mutin 
ous  glance  at  Rita,  who  paid  it  no  attention. 

"  Order  us  a  nice  dinner  at  the  Plaza,  Kelly — if  you 
don't  mind,"  she  said  cheerfully,  going  with  them  to 
the  door.  She  added  under  her  breath :  "  I  wish  he'd 

361 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


see  a  doctor,  but  the  idea  enrages  him.  I  don't  see 
why  he  has  such  a  cold  all  the  time — and  such  flushed 
cheeks —  Her  voice  quivered  and  she  checked  her 
self  abruptly. 

"  Suppose  I  ring  up  Dr.  Colbert  on  my  own  hook?  " 
whispered  Neville. 

"Would  you?" 

"  Certainly.  And  you  can  tell  John  that  I  did  it 
on  my  own  responsibility." 

Neville  and  Valerie  went  away  together,  and  Rita 
returned  to  the  studio.  Burleson  was  reading  again, 
and  scowling ;  and  he  scarcely  noticed  her.  She  seated 
herself  by  the  fire  and  looked  into  the  big  bare  studio 
beyond  where  the  electric  light  threw  strange  shadows 
over  shrouded  shapes  of  wet  clay  and  blocks  of  marble 
in  the  rough  or  partly  hewn  into  rough  semblance  of 
human  figures. 

It  was  a  damp  place  at  best ;  there  were  always 
wet  sponges,  wet  cloths,  pails  of  water,  masses  of  moist 
clay  about.  Her  blue  eyes  wandered  over  it  with  some 
thing  approaching  fear — almost  the  fear  of  hatred. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  why  wron't  you  go  to  a  dry  cli 
mate  for  a  few  months  and  get  rid  of  your  cold?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  Arizona  ?  " 

"  Or  some  similar  place :  yes." 

"  Well,  how  am  I  to  do  any  work  out  there  ?  I've 
got  commissions  on  hand.  Where  am  I  going  to  find 
any  place  to  work  out  in  Arizona  ?  " 

"  Build  a  shanty." 

"  That's  all  very  well,  but  there  are  no  models  to  be 
had  out  there." 

"  Why  don't  you  do  some  Indians  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  John  wrathfully,  "  I  iiaven't  any 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


commissions  that  call  for  Indians.  I've  two  angels,  a 
nymph  and  a  Diana  to  do ;  and  I  can't  do  them  unless 
I  have  a  female  model,  can  I?  " 

After  a  silence  Rita  said  carelessly : 

"  I'll  go  with  you  if  you  like." 

"You!     Out  there!" 

"  I  said  so." 

"  To  Arizona!     You  wouldn't  stand  for  it!  " 

"  John  Burleson !  "  she  said  impatiently,  "  I've  told 
you  once  that  I'd  go  with  you  if  you  need  a  model! 
Don't  you  suppose  I  know  what  I  am  saying  ?  " 

He  lay  placidly  staring  at  her,  the  heavy  book  open 
across  his  chest.  Presently  he  coughed  and  Rita  sprang 
up  and  removed  the  book. 

"  You'd  go  with  me  to  Arizona,"  he  repeated,  as 
though  to  himself — "just  to  pose  for  me.  .  .  .That's 
very  kind  of  you,  Rita.  It's  thoroughly  nice  of  you. 
But  you  couldn't  stand  it.  You'd  find  it  too  cruelly 
stupid  out  there  alone — entirely  isolated  in  some  funny 
town.  I  couldn't  ask  it  of  you " 

"  You  haven't.     I've  asked  it — of  you." 

But  he  only  began  to  grumble  and  fret  again, 
thrashing  about  restlessly  on  the  lounge;  and  the  tall 
young  girl  watched  him  out  of  lowered  eyes,  silent, 
serious,  the  lamplight  edging  her  hair  with  a  halo  of 
ruddy  gold. 

The  month  sped  away  very  swiftly  for  Valerie. 
Her  companionship  with  Rita,  her  new  friendship  for 
Helene  d'Enver,  her  work,  filled  all  the  little  moments 
not  occupied  with  Neville.  It  had  been  a  happy,  ex 
citing  winter;  and  now,  with  the  first  days  of  spring, 
an  excitement  and  a  happiness  so  strange  that  it  even 

363 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


resembled  fear  at  moments,  possessed  her,  in  the  immi 
nence  of  the  great  change. 

Often,  in  these  days,  she  found  herself  staring  at 
Neville  with  a  sort  of  fixed  fascination  almost  bordering 
on  terror ; — there  were  moments  when  alone  with  him, 
and  even  while  with  him  among  his  friends  and  hers, 
when  there  seemed  to  awake  in  her  a  fear  so  sudden,  so 
inexplicable,  that  every  nerve  in  her  quivered  appre 
hension  until  it  had  passed  as  it  came.  What  those 
moments  of  keenest  fear  might  signify  she  had  no 
idea.  She  loved,  and  was  loved,  and  was  not  afraid. 

In  early  April  Neville  went  to  Ashuelyn.  Ogilvy 
was  there,  also  Stephanie  Swift. 

His  sister  Lily  had  triumphantly  produced  a  second 
sample  of  what  she  could  do  to  perpetuate  the  House 
of  Collis,  and  was  much  engrossed  with  nursery  duties ; 
so  Stephanie  haunted  the  nursery,  while  Ogilvy,  Neville, 
and  Gordon  Collis  played  golf  over  the  April  pastures, 
joining  them  only  when  Lily  was  at  liberty. 

Why  Stephanie  avoided  Neville  she  herself  scarcely 
knew;  why  she  clung  so  closely  to  Lily's  skirts  seemed 
no  easier  to  explain.  But  in  her  heart  there  was  a 
restlessness  which  no  ignoring,  no  self-discipline  could 
suppress — an  unease  which  had  been  there  many  days, 
now — a  hard,  tired,  ceaseless  inquietude  that  found 
some  little  relief  when  she  was  near  Lily  Collis,  but 
which,  when  alone,  became  a  dull  ache. 

She  had  grown  thin  and  spiritless  within  the  last 
few  months.  Lily  saw  it  and  resented  it  hotly. 

"  The  child,"  she  said  to  her  husband,  "  is  perfectly 
wretched  over  Louis  and  his  ignominious  affair  with 
that  West  girl.  I  don't  know  whether  she  means  to 
keep  her  word  to  me  or  not,  but  she's  with  him  every 

364 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


day.  They're  seen  together  everywhere  except  where 
Louis  really  belongs." 

"  It  looks  to  me,"  said  Gordon  mildly,  "  as  though 
he  were  really  in  love  with  her." 

"  Gordon !  How  can  you  say  such  a  thing  in  such 
a  sympathetic  tone !  " 

"  Why — aren't  you  sorry  for  them?  " 

"  I'm  sorry  for  Louis — and  perfectly  disgusted.  I 
was  sorry  for  her;  an  excess  of  sentimentality.  But 
she  hasn't  kept  her  word  to  me." 

"  Did  she  promise  not  to  gad  about  with  him?  " 

"  That  was  the  spirit  of  the  compact ;  she  agreed 
not  to  marry  him." 

"  Sometimes  they — don't  marry,"  observed  Gordon, 
twirling  his  thumbs. 

Lily  looked  up  quickly ;  then  flushed  slightly. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Gordon  ?  " 

"  Nothing  specific ;  anything  in  general." 

"  You  mean  to  hint  that — that  Louis — Louis 
Neville  could  be — permit  himself  to  be  so  common — so 
unutterably  low 

"  Better  men  have  taken  the  half-loaf." 

"  Gordon ! "  she  exclaimed,  scarlet  with  amazement 
and  indignation. 

"  Personally,"  he  said,  unperturbed,  "  I  haven't 
much  sympathy  with  such  affairs.  If  a  man  can't 
marry  a  girl  he  ought  to  leave  her  alone ;  that's  my  idea 
of  the  game.  But  men  play  it  in  a  variety  of  ways. 
Personally,  I'd  as  soon  plug  a  loaded  shot-gun  with  mud 
and  then  fire  it,  as  block  a  man  who  wants  to  marry." 

66 1  did  block  it !  "  said  Lily  with  angry  decision ; 
"  and  I  am  glad  I  did." 

"  Look  out  for  the  explosion  then,"  he  said  philo- 
365 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


sophically,  and  strolled  off  to  see  to  the  setting  out  of 
some  young  hemlocks,  headed  in  the  year  previous. 

Lily  Collis  was  deeply  disturbed — more  deeply  than 
her  pride  and  her  sophistication  cared  to  admit.  She 
strove  to  believe  that  such  a  horror  as  her  husband  had 
hinted  at  so  coolly  could  never  happen  to  a  Neville; 
she  rejected  it  with  anger,  with  fear,  with  a  proud  and 
dainty  fastidiousness  that  ought  to  have  calmed  and 
reassured  her.  It  did  not. 

Once  or  twice  she  reverted  to  the  subject,  haugh 
tily  ;  but  Gordon  merely  shrugged : 

"  You  can't  teach  a  man  of  twenty-eight  when, 
where,  and  how  to  fall  in  love,"  he  said.  "And  it's  all 
the  more  hopeless  when  the  girl  possesses  the  qualities 
which  you  once  told  me  this  girl  possesses." 

Lily  bit  her  lip,  angry  and  disconcerted,  but  utterly 
unable  to  refute  him  or  find  anything  in  her  memory  of 
Valerie  to  criticise  and  condemn,  except  the  intimacy 
with  her  brother  which  had  continued  and  which, 
she  had  supposed,  would  cease  on  Valerie's  promise 
to  her. 

"  It's  very  horrid  of  her  to  go  about  with  him  under 
the  circumstances — knowing  she  can't  marry  him  if  she 
keeps  her  word,"  said  Lily. 

"  Why  ?     Stephanie  goes  about  with  him." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  good  taste  to  compare  those 
two  people  ?  " 

"  Why  not.  From  what  you  told  me  I  gather  that 
Valerie  West  is  as  innocent  and  upright  a  woman  as 
Stephanie — and  as  proudly  capable  of  self-sacrifice  as 
any  woman  who  ever  loved." 

"  Gordon,"  she  said,  exasperated,  "  do  you  actually 
wish  to  see  my  brother  marry  a  common  model?  " 

366 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Is  she  common?     I  thought  you  said " 

"  You — you  annoy  me,"  said  Lily ;  and  began  to 

cry- 
Stephanie,  coming  into  the  nursery  that  afternoon, 
found  Lily  watching  the  sleeping  children  and  knitting 
a  tiny  sweater.  Mrs.  Collis  was  pale,  but  her  eyes 
were  still  red. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Stephanie?  " 

"  Helping  Gordon  set  hemlocks." 

"Where  is  Louis?" 

The  girl  did  not  appear  to  hear  the  question. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  him  telephoning  a  few  minutes 
ago,"  added  Lily.  "  Look  over  the  banisters,  dear, 
and  see  if  he's  still  there." 

"  He  is,"  said  Stephanie,  not  stirring. 

"  Telephoning  all  this  time?  Is  he  talking  to  some 
body  in  town?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

Lily  suddenly  looked  up.  Stephanie  was  quietly 
examining  some  recently  laundered  clothing  for  the 
children. 

"  To  whom  is  Louis  talking ;  do  you  happen  to 
know?  "  asked  Lily  abruptly. 

Stephanie's  serious  gaze  encountered  hers. 

"  Does  that  concern  us,  Lily?  " 

After  a  while,  as  Mrs.  Collis  sat  in  silence  working 
her  ivory  needles,  a  tear  or  two  fell  silently  upon  the 
little  white  wool  garment  on  her  lap. 

And  presently  Stephanie  went  over  and  touched  her 
forehead  with  gentle  lips;  but  Lily  did  not  look  up — 
could  not — and  her  fingers  and  ivory  needles  flew  the 
faster. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Stephanie  in  a  low  voice, 
367 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  that   she   is  a  modest,  well-bred,  and  very  beautiful 
girl?" 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Lily,  staring  at  her  in  grief 
and  amazement.  "  Of  whom  are  you  speaking, 
Stephanie?  " 

"  Of  Valerie  West,  dear." 

"  W-what  do  you  know  about  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  met  her." 

"  You!  " 

"  Yes.  She  came,  with  that  rather  common  coun 
tess,  as  substitute  delegate  for  Mrs.  Hind-Willet,  to  a 
New  Idea  meeting.  I  spoke  to  her,  seeing  she  was 
alone  and  seemed  to  know  nobody ;  I  had  no  suspicion 
of  who  she  was  until  she  told  me." 

"  Mrs.  Hind-Willet  is  a  busybody ! "  said  Lily, 
furious.  "  Let  her  fill  her  own  drawing-room  with 
freaks  if  it  pleases  her,  but  she  has  no  right  to  send 
them  abroad  among  self-respecting  people  who  are  too 
unsuspicious  to  protect  themselves !  " 

Stephanie  said :  "  Until  one  has  seen  and  spoken 
with  Valerie  West  one  can  scarcely  understand  how 
a  man  like  your  brother  could  care  so  much  for 
her " 

"  How  do  you  know  Louis  cares  for  her?  " 

"  He  told  me." 

Lily  looked  into  the  frank,  gray  eyes  in  horror  un 
utterable.  The  crash  had  come.  The  last  feeble  hope 
that  her  brother  might  come  to  his  senses  and  marry 
this  girl  was  ended  forever. 

"  How — could  he !  "  she  stammered,  outraged. 
"  How  could  he  tell— tell  you— 

"  Because  he  and  I  are  old  and  close  friends,  Lily. 
.  .  .  And  will  remain  so,  God  willing." 

368 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Lily  was  crying  freely  now. 

"  He  had  no  business  to  tell  you.  He  knows  per 
fectly  well  what  his  father  and  mother  think  about  it 
and  what  I  think.  He  can't  marry  her !  He  shall  not. 
It  is  too  cruel — too  wicked — too  heartless!  And  any 
way — she  promised  me  not  to  marry  him " 

"What!" 

Lily  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  heedless  now 
of  how  much  Stephanie  might  learn. 

"  I  wrote  her — I  went  to  see  her  in  behalf  of  my 
own  family  as  I  had  a  perfect  right  to.  She  promised 
me  not  to  marry  Louis." 

"  Does  Louis  know  this  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  she's  told  him.  ...  I  don't  care 
whether  he  does  or  not!  He  has  disappointed  me — he 
has  embittered  life  for  me — and  for  his  parents.  We 
• — I — I  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  and — 
you " 

Something  in  Stephanie's  gray  eyes  checked  her. 
When  breeding  goes  to  pieces  it  makes  a  worse  mess  of 
it  than  does  sheer  vulgarity. 

"  If  I  were  Louis  I  would  marry  her,"  said  Ste 
phanie  very  quietly.  "  I  gave  him  that  advice." 

She  rose,  looking  down  at  Lily  where  she  sat 
bowed  over  her  wool-work,  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands. 

"  Think  about  it ;  and  talk  patiently  with  Louis," 
she  said  gently. 

Passing  the  stairs  she  glanced  toward  the  telephone. 
Louis  was  still  talking  to  somebody  in  New  York. 


It  was  partly  fear  of  what  her  husband  had  hinted, 
partly  terror  of  what  she  considered  worse  still — a  legal 

369 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


marriage — that  drove  Lily  Collis  to  write  once  more  to 
Valerie  West: 

"  DEAR  Miss  WEST  :  It  is  not  that  I  have  any  dis 
position  to  doubt  your  word  to  me,  but,  in  view  of  the 
assurance  you  have  given  me,  do  you  consider  it  wise 
to  permit  my  brother's  rather  conspicuous  attentions 
to  you? 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear  Miss  West,  as  an  older 
woman  with  wider  experience  which  years  must  bring, 
to  suggest  that  it  is  due  to  yourself  to  curtail  an  in 
timacy  which  the  world — of  course  mistakenly  in  your 
case — views  always  uncharitably. 

"  No  man — and  I  include  my  brother  as  severely  as 
I  do  any  man — has  a  right  to  let  the  world  form  any 
misconception  as  to  his  intentions  toward  any  woman. 
If  he  does  he  is  either  ignorant  or  selfish  and  ruthless ; 
and  it  behooves  a  girl  to  protect  her  own  reputation. 

"  I  write  this  in  all  faith  and  kindliness  for  your 
sake  as  well  as  for  his.  But  a  man  outlives  such  things'; 
a  woman  never.  And,  for  the  sake  of  your  own  future 
I  beg  you  to  consider  this  matter  and  I  trust  that  you 
may  not  misconstrue  the  motive  which  has  given  me  the 
courage  to  write  you  what  has  caused  me  deepest  con 
cern. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"  LILY  COLLIS." 

To  which  Valerie  replied : 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  COLLIS  :  I  have  to  thank  you  for 
your  excellent  intentions  in  writing  me.  But  with  all 
deference  to  your  wider  experience  I  am  afraid  that  I 

370 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


must  remain  the  judge  of  my  own  conduct.  Pray, 
believe  that,  in  proportion  to  your  sincerity,  I  am 
grateful  to  you;  and  that  I  should  never  dream  of  be 
ing  discourteous  to  Mr.  Neville's  sister  if  I  venture  to 
suggest  to  her  that  liberty  of  conscience  is  a  funda 
mental  scarcely  susceptible  of  argument  or  discussion. 
"  I  assume  that  you  would  not  care  to  have  Mr. 
Neville  know  of  this  correspondence,  and  for  that  rea 
son  I  am  returning  to  you  your  letter  so  that  you  may 
be  assured  of  its  ultimate  destruction. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  VALERIE  WEST." 

Which  letter  and  its  reply  made  Valerie  deeply  un 
happy;  and  she  wrote  Neville  a  little  note  saying  that 
she  had  gone  to  the  country  with  Helene  d'Enver  for  a 
few  days'  rest. 

The  countess  had  taken  a  house  among  the  hills  at 
Estwich;  and  as  chance  would  have  it,  about  eight 
miles  from  Ashuelyn  and  Penrhyn  Cardemon's  great 
establishment,  El  Nauar. 

Later  Valerie  was  surprised  and  disturbed  to  learn 
of  the  proximity  of  Neville's  family,  fearing  that  if 
Mrs.  Collis  heard  of  her  in  the  neighbourhood  she  might 
misunderstand. 

But  there  was  only  scant  and  rough  communication 
between  Ashuelyn  and  Estwich ;  the  road  was  a  wretched 
hill-path  passable  only  by  buck-boards ;  Westwich  was 
the  nearest  town  to  Ashuelyn  and  El  Nauar  and  the  city 
of  Dartford,  the  county  seat  most  convenient  to  Est 
wich. 

Spring  was  early;  the  Estwich  hills  bloomed  in 
May ;  and  Helene  d'Enver  moved  her  numerous  house- 

371 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


hold  from  the  huge  Castilione  Apartment  House  to 
Estwich  and  settled  down  for  a  summer  of  mental  and 
physical  recuperation. 

Valerie,  writing  to  Neville  the  first  week  in  May, 
said: 

"  Louis,  the  country  here  is  divine.  I  thought  the 
shaggy,  unkempt  hills  of  Delaware  County  were  heav 
enly — and  they  were  when  you  came  and  made  them  so 
— but  this  rich,  green,  well-ordered  country  with  its 
hills  and  woods  and  meadows  of  emerald — its  calm 
river,  its  lovely  little  brooks,  its  gardens,  hedges, 
farms,  is  to  me  the  most  wonderful  land  I  ever  looked 
upon. 

"  Helene  has  a  pretty  house,  white  with  green  blinds 
and  verandas,  and  the  loveliest  lawns  you  ever  saw — 
unless  the  English  lawns  are  lovelier. 

"  To  my  city-wearied  eyes  the  region  is  celestial  in 
its  horizon-wide  quiet.  Only  the  ripple  of  water  in 
leafy  ravines — only  the  music  of  birds  breaks  the  silence 
that  is  so  welcome,  so  blessed. 

"  To-day  Helene  and  I  picked  strawberries  for 
breakfast,  then  filled  the  house  with  great  fragrant 
peonies,  some  of  which  are  the  colour  of  Brides'  roses, 
some  of  water-lilies. 

"  I'm  quite  mad  with  delight ;  I  love  the  farm  with 
its  ducks  and  hens  and  pigeons ;  I  adore  the  cattle  in 
the  meadow.  They  are  fragrant.  Helene  laughs  at 
me  because  I  follow  the  cows  about,  sniffing  luxuriously. 
They  smell  like  the  clover  they  chew. 

"  Louis,  dear,  I  have  decided  to  remain  a  week  here, 
if  you  don't  mind.  I'm  a  little  tired,  I  think.  John 
Burleson,  poor  boy,  does  not  need  me.  I'm  terribly 

372 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


worried  about  him.  Rita  writes  that  there  is  no  dan 
ger  of  pneumonia,  but  that  Dr.  Colbert  is  making  a 
careful  examination.  I  hope  it  is  not  lung  trouble.  It 
would  be  too  tragic.  He  is  only  twenty-seven.  Still, 
they  cure  such  things  now,  don't  they  ?  Rita  is  hoping 
he  will  go  to  Arizona,  and  has  offered  to  go  with  him 
as  his  model.  That  means — if  she  does  go — that  she'll 
nurse  him  and  take  care  of  him.  She  is  devoted  to 
him.  What  a  generous  girl  she  is! 

"  Dear,  if  you  don't  need  me,  or  are  not  too  lonely 
without  seeing  me  come  fluttering  into  your  studio 
every  evening  at  tea-time,  I  would  really  like  to  remain 
here  a  few  days  longer.  I  have  arranged  business  so 
that  I  can  stay  if  it  is  agreeable  to  you.  Tell  me 
exactly  how  you  feel  about  it  and  I  will  do  exactly 
as  you  wish — which,  please  God — I  shall  always  do 
while  life  lasts. 

"  Sam  came  up  over  Sunday,  lugging  Harry  Annan 
and  a  bulldog — a  present  for  Helene.  Sam  is  so  sen 
timental  about  Helene ! 

"  And  he's  so  droll  about  it.  But  I've  seen  him  that 
way  before ;  haven't  you  ?  And  Helene,  bless  her  heart, 
lets  him  make  eyes  at  her  and  just  laughs  in  that 
happy,  wholesome  way  of  hers. 

"  She's  a  perfect  dear,  Louis ;  so  sweet  and  kind  to 
me,  so  unaffected,  so  genuine,  so  humorous  about  her 
self  and  her  funny  title.  She  told  me  that  she  would 
gladly  shed  it  if  she  were  not  obliged  to  shed  her  legacy 
with  it.  I  don't  blame  her.  What  an  awful  title — 
when  you  translate  it ! 

"  Sam  is  temporarily  laid  up.  He  attempted  to 
milk  a  cow  and  she  kicked  him ;  and  he's  lying  in  a  ham 
mock  and  Helene  is  reading  to  him,  while  Harry  paints 

373 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


her  portrait.  Oh,  dear — I  love  Harry  Annan,  but  he 
can't  paint ! 

"  Dearest — as  I  sit  here  in  ray  room  with  the  chintz 
curtains  blowing  and  the  sun  shining  on  the  vines  out 
side  my  open  windows,  I  am  thinking  of  you;  and  my 
girl's  heart  is  very  full — very  humble  in  the  wonder  of 
your  love  for  me — a  miracle  ever  new,  ever  sweeter,  ever 
holier. 

"  I  pray  that  it  be  given  to  me  to  see  the  best  way 
for  your  happiness  and  your  welfare;  I  pray  that  I 
may  not  be  confused  by  thought  of  self. 

"  Dear,  the  spring  is  going  very  swiftly.  I 
can  scarcely  believe  that  May  is  already  here — is 
already  passing — and  that  the  first  of  June  is  so 
near. 

"  Will  you  always  love  me  ?  Will  you  always  think 
tenderly  of  me — happily — !  Alas,  it  is  a  promise  no 
body  can  honestly  make.  One  can  be  honest  only  in 
wishing  it  may  be  so. 

"  Dearest  of  men,  the  great  change  is  near  at  hand 
— nearer  than  I  can  realise.  Do  you  still  want  me? 
Is  the  world  impossible  without  me?  Tell  me  so,  Louis ; 
tell  me  so  now — and  in  the  years  to  come — very  often 
— very,  very  often.  I  shall  need  to  hear  you  say  it ; 
I  understand  now  how  great  my  need  will  be  to  hear 
I  you  say  it  in  the  years  to  come." 

Writing  to  him  in  a  gayer  mood  a  week  later: 

"  It  is  perfectly  dear  of  you  to  tell  me  to  remain. 
I  do  miss  you;  I'm  simply  wild  to  see  you;  but  I  am 
getting  so  strong,  so  well,  so  deliciously  active  and 
vigorous  again.  I  was  rather  run  down  in  town.  But 

374 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


in  the  magic  of  this  air  and  sunshine  I  have  watched  the 
reincarnation  of  myself.  I  swim,  I  row,  I  am  learning 
to  sit  a  horse ;  I  play  tennis — and  I  flirt,  Mon 
sieur — shamelessly,  with  Sam  and  Harry.  Do  you  ob 
ject 

"  We  had  such  a  delightful  time — a  week-end  party, 
perfectly  informal  and  crazy ;  Mrs.  Hind-Willet — who 
is  such  a  funny  woman,  considering  the  position  she 
might  occupy  in  society — and  Jose  Querida — just  six 
of  us,  until — and  this  I'm  afraid  you  may  not  like — 
Mrs.  Hind-Willet  telephoned  Penrhyn  Cardemon  to 
come  over. 

"  You  know,  Louis,  he  seems  a  gentleman,  though 
it  is  perfectly  certain  that  he  isn't.  I  hate  and  despise 
him ;  and  have  been  barely  civil  to  him.  But  in  a  small 
company  one  has  to  endure  such  things  with  outward 
equanimity ;  and  I  am  sure  that  nobody  suspects  my 
contempt  for  him  and  that  my  dislike  has  not  caused 
one  awkward  moment." 

She  wrote  again : 

"  I  beg  of  you  not  to  suggest  to  your  sister  that 
she  call  on  me.  Try  to  be  reasonable,  dear.  Mrs. 
Collis  does  not  desire  to  know  me.  Why  should  she? 
Why  should  you  wish  to  have  me  meet  her?  If  you 
have  any  vague  ideas  that  my  meeting  her  might  in  any 
possible  way  alter  a  situation  which  must  always  exist 
between  your  family  and  myself,  }^ou  are  utterly  mis 
taken,  dearest. 

"  And  my  acquaintance  with  Miss  Swift  is  so  slight 
— I  never  saw  her  but  once,  and  then  only  for  a  mo 
ment  ! — that  it  would  be  only  painful  and  embarrassing 

375 


THE   COMMON  L'AW 


to  her  if  you  asked  her  to  call  on  me.  Besides,  you  are 
a  man  and  you  don't  understand  such  things.  Also, 
Mrs.  Collis  and  Miss  Swift  have  only  the  slightest  and 
most  formal  acquaintance  with  Helene;  and  it  is  very 
plain  that  they  are  as  content  with  that  acquaintance 
as  is  Helene.  And  in  addition  to  that,  you  dear  stupid 
boy,  your  family  has  carefully  ignored  Mr.  Cardemon 
for  years,  although  he  is  their  neighbour;  and  Mr. 
Cardemon  is  here.  And  to  cap  the  climax,  your 
father  and  mother  are  at  Ashuelyn.  Can't  you  under 
stand  ? 

"  Dearest  of  men,  don't  put  your  family  and  your 
self — and  me — into  such  a  false  position.  I  know  you 
won't  when  I  have  explained  it ;  I  know  you  trust  me ;  I 
know  you  love  me  dearly.  . 

"  We  had  a  straw  ride.  There's  no  new  straw, 
of  course,  so  we  had  a  wagon  filled  with  straw  from 
one  of  the  barns  and  we  drove  to  Lake  Gentian 
and  Querida  was  glorious  in  the  moonlight  with  his 
guitar. 

"  He's  so  nice  to  me  now — so  like  himself.  But  I 
hate  Penrhyn  Cardemon  and  I  wish  he  would  go;  and 
he's  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  and  for  Helene's  sake  I  don't 
snub  him — the  unmitigated  cad! 

"  However,  it  takes  all  kinds  to  make  even  the  small 
est  of  house  parties ;  and  I  continue  to  be  very  happy 
and  to  write  to  you  every  day. 

"  Sam  is  queer.  I'm  beginning  to  wonder  whether 
he  is  really  in  love  with  Helene.  If  he  isn't  he  ought 
to  have  his  knuckles  rapped.  Of  course,  Helene  will  be 
sensible  about  it.  But,  Louis,  when  a  really  nice  man 
behaves  as  though  he  were  in  love  with  a  woman,  no 
matter  how  gaily  she  laughs  over  it,  it  is  bound  to  mean 

376 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


something  to  her.  And  men  don't  seem  to  understand 
that." 

"  Mrs.  Hind-Willet  departs  to-morrow.  Sam  and 
Harry  go  to  Ashuelyn ;  Mr.  Cardemon  to  his  rural  pal 
ace,  I  devoutly  trust ;  which  will  leave  Jose  to  Helene 
and  me;  and  he's  equal  to  it. 

"  How  long  may  I  stay,  dear  ?  I  am  having  a  heav 
enly  time — which  is  odd  because  heaven  is  in  New  York 
just  now." 

Another  letter  in  answer  to  one  of  his  was  briefer: 

"  MY  DARLING  : 

"  Certainly  you  must  go  to  Ashuelyn  if  your  father 
and  mother  wish  it.  They  are  old,  dear ;  and  it  is  a 
heartless  thing  to  thwart  the  old. 

"  Don't  think  of  attempting  to  come  over  here  to 
see  me.  The  chances  are  that  your  family  would  hear 
of  it  and  it  would  only  pain  them.  Any  happiness  that 
you  and  I  are  ever  to  have  must  not  be  gained  at  any 
expense  to  them. 

"  So  keep  your  distance,  Monsieur ;  make  your  par 
ents  and  your  sister  happy  for  the  few  days  you  are 
to  be  there;  and  on  Thursday  I  will  meet  you  on  the 
9.30  train  and  we  will  go  back  to  town  together. 

"  I  am  going  anyway,  for  two  reasons ;  I  have  been 
away  from  you  entirely  too  long,  and — the  First  of 
June  is  very,  very  near. 

"  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,  Louis. 

"  VALERIE  WEST." 


13 


CHAPTER    XIII 

HE  never  doubted  that,  when  at  length  the  time 
came  for  the  great  change — though  perhaps  not  until 
the  last  moment — Valerie  would  consent  to  marry  him. 
Because,  so  far  in  his  life  of  twenty-eight  years,  every 
thing  he  had  desired  very  much  had  come  true — every 
thing  he  had  really  believed  in  and  worked  for,  had 
happened  as  he  foresaw  it  would,  in  spite  of  the  doubts, 
the  fears,  the  apprehensions  that  all  creators  of  cir 
cumstances  and  makers  of  their  own  destiny  experience. 

Among  his  fellow-men  he  had  forged  a  self-centred, 
confident  way  to  the  front ;  and  had  met  there  not  ulti 
mate  achievement,  but  a  young  girl,  Valerie  West. 
Through  her,  somehow,  already  was  coming  into  his 
life  and  into  his  work  that  indefinite,  elusive  quality — • 
that  something,  the  existence  of  which,  until  the  last 
winter,  he  had  never  even  admitted.  But  it  was  coin 
ing  ;  he  first  became  conscious  of  it  through  his  need  of 
it;  suspected  its  existence  as  astronomers  suspect  the 
presence  of  a  star  yet  uncharted  and  unseen.  Suddenly 
it  had  appeared  in  his  portrait  of  Valerie ;  and  he  knew 
that  Querida  had  recognised  it. 

In  his  picture  "  A  Bride,"  the  pale,  mysterious  glow 
of  it  suffused  his  canvas.  It  was  penetrating  into  his 
own  veins,  too,  subtle,  indefinable,  yet  always  there 
now;  and  he  was  sensitive  to  its  presence  not  only 

378 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


when  absorbed  in  his  work  but,  more  or  less  in  his  daily 
life. 

And  it  was  playing  tricks  on  him,  too,  as  when  one 
morning,  absorbed  by  the  eagerness  of  achievement,  and 
midway  in  the  happiness  of  his  own  work,  suddenly  and 
unbidden  the  memory  of  poor  Annan  came  to  him — the 
boy's  patient,  humorous  face  bravely  confronting  fail 
ure  on  the  canvas,  before  him,  from  which  Neville  had 
turned  away  without  a  word,  because  he  had  no  good 
word  to  say  of  it. 

And  Neville,  scarcely  appreciating  the  reason  for 
any  immediate  self-sacrifice,  nevertheless  had  laid  aside 
his  brushes  as  at  some  unheard  command,  and  had  gone 
straight  to  Annan's  studio.  And  there  he  had  spent 
the  whole  morning  giving  the  discouraged  boy  all  that 
was  best  in  him  of  strength  and  wisdom  and  cheerful 
sympathy,  until,  by  noon,  an  almost  hopeless  canvas 
was  saved;  and  Annan,  going  with  him  to  the  door, 
said  unsteadily,  "  Kelly,  that  is  the  kindest  thing  one 
man  ever  did  for  another,  and  I'll  never  forget  it." 

Yes,  the  something  seemed  to  have  penetrated  to  his 
own  veins  now ;  he  felt  its  serene  glow  mounting  when 
he  spent  solemn  evenings  in  John  Burleson's  room,  the 
big  sculptor  lying  in  his  morris-chair,  sometimes  irri 
table,  sometimes  morose,  but  always  now  wearing  the 
vivid  patch  of  colour  on  his  flat  and  sunken  cheeks. 

Once  John  said :  "  Why  on  earth  do  you  waste  a 
perfectly  good  afternoon  dawdling  in  this  place  with 
me?" 

And  Neville,  for  a  second,  wondered,  too;  then  he 
laughed : 

"  I  get  all  that  I  give  you,  John,  and  more,  too. 
Shut  up  and  mind  your  business." 

379 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  What  do  you  get  from  me?  "  demanded  the  literal 
one,  astonished. 

"  All  that  you  are,  Johnny ;  which  is  much  that  I 
am  not — but  ought  to  be — may  yet  be." 

"  That's  some  sort  of  transcendental  philosophy, 
isn't  it?  "  grumbled  the  sculptor. 

"  You  ought  to  know  better  than  I,  John.  The 
sacred  codfish  never  penetrated  to  the  Hudson.  Inde 
irae!  " 

Yes,  truly,  whatever  it  was  that  had  crept  into  his 
veins  had  imperceptibly  suffused  him,  enveloped  him — 
and  was  working  changes.  He  had  a  vague  idea,  some 
times,  that  Valerie  had  been  the  inception,  the  source, 
the  reagent  in  the  chemistry  which  was  surely  altering 
either  himself  or  the  world  of  men  around  him ; 
that  the  change  was  less  a  synthesis  than  a  catalysis — 
that  he  was  gradually  becoming  different  because 
of  her  nearness  to  him — her  physical  and  spiritual  near 
ness. 

He  had  plenty  of  leisure  to  think  of  her  while  she 
was  away ;  but  thought  of  her  was  now  only  an  active 
ebullition  of  the  ceaseless  consciousness  of  her  which  so 
entirely  possessed  him.  When  a  selfish  man  loves — if 
he  really  loves — his  disintegration  begins. 

Waking,  sleeping,  in  happiness,  in  perplexity, 
abroad,  at  home,  active  or  at  rest,  inspired  or  weary, 
alone  or  with  others,  an  exquisite  sense  of  her  presence 
on  earth  invaded  him,  subtly  refreshing  him  with  every 
breath  he  drew.  He  walked  abroad  amid  the  city  crowds 
companioned  by  her  always ;  at  rest  the  essence  of  her 
stole  through  and  through  him  till  the  very  air  around 
seemed  sweetened. 

He  heard  others  mention  her,  and  remained  silent, 
380 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


aloof,  wrapped  in  his  memories,  like  one  who  listens  to 
phantoms  in  a  dream  praising  perfection. 

Lying  back  in  his  chair  before  his  canvas,  he 
thought  of  her  often — of  odd  little  details  concerning 
their  daily  life — details  almost  trivial — gestures,  a 
glance,  a  laugh — recollections  which  surprised  him  with 
the  very  charm  of  their  insignificance. 

He  remembered  that  he  had  never  known  her  to  be 
ungenerous — had  never  detected  in  her  a  wilfully  selfish 
motive.  In  his  life  he  had  never  before  believed  in  a 
character  so  utterly  unshackled  by  thought  of  self. 

He  remembered  that  he  had  never  known  her  to  fail 
in  sympathy  for  any  living  thing;  had  never  detected 
in  her  an  indifference  to  either  the  happiness  or  the 
sorrow  of  others.  In  his  life  he  had  never  before  be 
lieved  that  the  command  to  love  one's  neighbour  had 
in  it  anything  more  significant  than  the  beauty  of  an 
immortal  theory.  He  believed  it  now  because,  in  her, 
he  had  seen  it  in  effortless  practice.  He  was  even  be 
ginning  to  understand  how  it  might  be  possible  for  him 
to  follow  where  she  led — as  she,  unconsciously,  was  a 
follower  of  a  precept  given  to  lead  the  world  through 
eternities. 

Leaning  on  the  closed  piano,  thinking  of  her  in 
the  still,  sunny  afternoons,  faintly  in  his  ears  her  voice 
seemed  to  sound;  and  he  remembered  her  choice  of 
ballads : — 


— "  For  even  the  blind  distinguished 

The  king  with  his  robe  and  crown ; 
But  only  the  humble  eye  of  faith 
Beholdeth  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
In  the  beggar's  tattered  gown. 
381 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  I  saw  Him  not  in  the  mendicant 

And  I  heeded  not  his  cry  ; 
Now  Christ  in  His  infinite  mercy  grant 
That  the  prayer  I  say  in  my  day  of  want, 

Be  not  in  scorn  put  by." 

No ;  he  had  never  kno\vn  her  to  be  unkind,  unchar 
itable,  unforgiving ;  he  had  never  known  her  to  be  insin 
cere,  untruthful,  or  envious.  But  the  decalogue  is  no 
stronger  than  its  weakest  link.  Was  it  in  the  heart  of 
such  a  woman — this  woman  he  loved — was  it  in  the 
heart  of  this  young  girl  to  shatter  it? 

He  went  on  to  Ashuelyn,  confident  of  her  and  of 
himself,  less  confident  of  his  sister — almost  appalled  at 
the  prospect  of  reconciling  his  father  and  mother  to  this 
marriage  that  must  surely  be.  Yet — so  far  in  life — 
life  had  finally  yielded  to  him  what  he  fought  for; 
and  it  must  yield  now ;  and  in  the  end  it  would  surely 
give  him  the  loyalty  and  sympathy  of  his  family. 
Which  meant  that  Valerie  would  listen  to  him ;  and,  in 
the  certainty  of  his  family's  ultimate  acquiescence,  she 
would  wear  his  ring  and  face  with  him  the  problems 
and  the  sorrows  that  must  come  to  all. 

Cameron  drove  down  to  the  station  in  the  motor-car 
to  meet  him : 

"  Hello,  Genius,"  he  said,  patting  Neville  on  the 
back  with  a  pudgy  hand.  "  How's  your  twin  brother, 
Vice?" 

"Hello,  you  large  and  adipose  object!"  retorted 
Neville,  seating  himself  in  the  tonneau.  "  How  is  that 
overworked,  money-grubbing  intellect  of  yours  stagger 
ing  along?  " 

"  Handicapped  with  precious  thoughts ;  Ogilvy 
382 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


threw  'em  into  me  when  he  was  here.  How's  the  wan 
ton  Muse,  Louis?  Sitting  on  your  knees  as  usual?  " 

"  One  arm  around  my  neck,"  admitted  Neville, 
"  and  the  band  playing  *  Sweethearts.' ' 

"  Waiting  for  you  to  order  inspiration  cocktails. 
You're  looking  fit." 

"Am  I?     I  haven't  had  one." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  threw  one  every  time  you 
painted  that  pretty  model  of  3^ours —  He  looked 
sideways  at  Neville,  but  seeing  that  he  was  unreceptive, 
shrugged. 

"  You're  a  mean  bunch,  you  artists,"  he  said.  "  I'd 
like  to  meet  that  girl,  but  because  I'm  a  broker  any- 
body'd  think  I  had  rat-plague  from  the  way  you  all 
quarantine  her — yes,  the  whole  lot  of  you — Ogilvy,  An 
nan,  Querida.  Why,  even  Penrhyn  Cardemon  has  met 
her ;  he  told  me  so ;  and  if  he  has  why  can't  I — 

"  For  heaven's  sake  let  up !  "  said  Neville,  keeping 
his  temper,  "  and  tell  me  how  everybody  is  at  Ashu- 
elyn." 

"  Huh !  I'm  ridden  off  as  usual,"  grunted  Cameron. 
"  All  right,  then ;  I'll  fix  it  myself.  What  was  it  you 
were  gracious  enough  to  inquire  of  me  ?  " 

"  How  the  people  are  at  Ashuelyn  ?  "  repeated 
Neville. 

"  How  they  are  ?  How  the  deuce  do  I  know  ? 
Your  mother  embroiders  and  reads  The  Atlantic 
Monthly;  your  father  tucks  his  hands  behind  him  and 
critically  inspects  the  landscape;  and  when  he  doesn't 
do  that  he  reads  Herbert  Spencer.  Your  efficient  sister 
nourishes  her  progeny  and  does  all  things  thoroughly 
and  well ;  Gordon  digs  up  some  trees  and  plants  others 
and  squirts  un-fragrant  mixtures  over  the  shrubbery, 

383 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


and  sits  on  fences  talking  to  various  Rubes.  Ste 
phanie  floats  about  like  a  well-fed  angel,  with  a  fox- 
terrier,  and  makes  a  monkey  of  me  at  tennis  when 
ever  I'm  lunatic  enough  to  let  her,  and  generally  dis 
penses  sweetness,  wholesomeness,  and  light  upon  a 
worthy  household.  I  wouldn't  mind  marrying  that 
girl,"  he  added  casually.  "  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

Neville  laughed:  "Why  don't  you?  She's  the 
nicest  girl  I  ever  knew — almost." 

"  I'd  ask  her  to  marry  me,"  said  Cameron  facetious 
ly  ;  "  only  I'm  afraid  such  a  dazzling  prospect  would 
turn  her  head  and  completely  spoil  her." 

He  spoke  gaily  and  laughed  loudly — almost  bois 
terously.  Neville  glanced  at  him  with  a  feeling  that 
Cameron  was  slightly  overdoing  it — rather  forcing  the 
mirth  without  any  particular  reason. 

After  a  moment  he  said :  "  Sandy,  you  don't  have  to 
be  a  clown  if  you  don't  want  to  be,  you  know." 

"  Can't  help  it,"  said  Cameron,  reddening ;  "  every 
body  expects  it  now.  When  Ogilvy  was  here  we 
played  in  a  double  ring  to  crowded  houses.  Every  seat 
on  the  veranda  was  taken ;  we  turned  'em  away,  my  boy. 
What  was  it  you  started  to  say  about  Stephanie  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  start  to  say  anything  about  Stephanie." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  " — his  voice 
died  into  an  uncertain  grumble.  Neville  glanced  at 
him  again,  thoughtfully. 

"  You  know,  Sand}',"  he  said,  "  that  there's  another 
side  to  you — which,  for  some  occult  reason  you  seem 
to  hide — even  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"  Sure  I'm  ashamed  to  be  a  broker  with  all  you  high 
brows  lining  out  homers  for  the  girls  while  I  have  to 
sit  on  the  bleachers  and  score  'em  up.  If  I  try  to 

384 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


make  a  hit  with  the  ladies  it's  a  bingle;  and  it's  the 
bench  and  the  bush-league  for  muh — 

"  You  great,  overgrown  kid !  It's  a  pity  people 
can't  see  you  down  town.  Everybody  knows  you're  the 
cleverest  thing  south  of  Broad  and  Wall.  Look  at  all 
the  boards,  all  the  committees,  all  the  directorates 
you're  mixed  up  with!  Look  at  all  the  time  you  give 
freely  to  others — look  at  all  your  charities,  all  your 
civic  activities,  all " 

"  All  the  hell  I  raise ! "  said  Cameron,  very  red. 
"  Don't  forget  that,  Louis  !  " 

"  You  never  did — that's  the  wonder  and  the  eternal 
decency  of  you,  Cameron.  You're  a  good  citizen  and  a 
good  man,  and  you  do  more  for  the  world  than  we 
painters  ever  could  do!  That's  the  real  truth  of  it; 
and  why  you  so  persistently  try  to  represent  yourself 
as  a  commonplace  something  else  is  beyond  me — and 
probably  beyond  Stephanie  Swift,"  he  added  carelessly. 

They  whizzed  along  in  silence  for  some  time,  and 
it  was  only  when  Ashuelyn  was  in  sight  that  Cameron 
suddenly  turned  and  held  out  his  hand : 

"  Thank  you,  Louis ;  you've  said  some  very  kind 
things." 

Neville  shrugged :  "  I  hear  you  are  financing  that 
New  Idea  Home.  I  tell  you  that's  a  fine  conception." 

But  Cameron  only  looked  modest.  At  heart  he  was 
a  very  shy  man  and  he  deprecated  any  idea  that  he  was 
doing  anything  unusual  in  giving  most  of  his  time  to 
affairs  that  paid  dividends  only  in  happiness  and  in  the 
consciousness  of  moral  obligation  fulfilled. 

The  household  was  occupying  the  pergola  as  they 
arrived  and  sprang  out  upon  the  clipped  lawn. 

Neville  kissed  his  mother  tenderly,  shook  hands  cor- 
385 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


dially  with  his  father,  greeted  Lily  with  a  fraternal  hug 
and  Stephanie  with  a  firm  grasp  of  both  hands. 

"  How  perfectly  beautiful  it  is  here !  "  he  exclaimed, 
looking  out  over  the  green  valley  beyond — and  uncon 
sciously  his  gaze  rested  on  the  Estwich  hills,  blue  and 
hazy  and  soft  as  dimpled  velvet.  Out  there,  somewhere, 
was  Valerie;  heart  and  pulse  began  to  quicken.  Sud 
denly  he  became  aware  that  his  mother's  eyes  were  on 
him,  and  he  turned  away  toward  the  south  as  though 
there  was  also  something  in  that  point  of  the  compass  to 
interest  lu'm. 

Gordon  Collis,  following  a  hand-cart  full  of  young 
trees  wrapped  in  burlap,  passed  across  the  lawn  below 
and  waved  a  greeting  at  Neville. 

"  How  are  you,  Louis !  "  he  called  out.  "  Don't 
you  want  to  help  us  set  these  hybrid  catalpas?  " 

"  I'll  be  along  by  and  by,"  he  replied,  and  turned 
to  the  group  under  the  pergola  who  desired  to  know 
how  it  was  in  town — the  first  question  always  asked  by 
New  Yorkers  of  anybody  who  has  just  arrived  from 
that  holy  spot. 

"  It's  not  too  warm,"  said  Neville ;  "  the  Park  is 
charming,  most  of  the  houses  on  Fifth  Avenue  are 
closed " 

"  Have  you  chanced  to  pass  through  Tenth 
Street?  "  asked  his  father  solemnly. 

But  Neville  confessed  that  he  had  not  set  foot 
in  those  sanctified  precincts,  and  his  father's  personal 
interest  in  Manhattan  Island  ceased  immediately. 

They  chatted  inconsequentially  for  a  while;  then,  in 
reply  to  a  question  from  Stephanie,  he  spoke  of  his 
picture,  "  A  Bride,"  and,  though  it  was  still  unfinished, 
he  showed  them  a  photograph  of  it. 

386 


£ 

.2 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


The  unmounted  imprint  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
amid  various  comments. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,  Louis,"  said  his  mother,  with 
a  smile  of  pride ;  and  even  as  she  spoke  the  smile  faded 
and  her  sad  eyes  rested  on  him  wistfully. 

"  Is  it  a  sacred  picture?  "  asked  his  father,  examin 
ing  it  through  his  glasses  without  the  slightest  trace  of 
interest. 

"  It  is  an  Annunciation,  isn't  it  ?  "  inquired  Lily, 
calmly.  But  her  heart  was  failing  her,  for  in  the 
beauty  of  the  exquisite,  enraptured  face,  she  saw  what 
might  have  been  the  very  soul  of  Valerie  West. 

His  father,  removing  his  spectacles,  delivered  him 
self  of  an  opinion  concerning  mysticism,  and  betrayed 
an  illogical  tendency  to  drift  toward  the  Concord  School 
of  Philosophy.  However,  there  seemed  to  be  insufficient 
incentive ;  he  glanced  coldly  toward  Cameron  and  re 
sumed  Herbert  Spencer  and  his  spectacles. 

"  Mother,  don't  you  want  to  stroll  on  the  lawn  a 
bit?  "  he  asked  presently.  "  It  looks  very  inviting  to 
a  city  man's  pavement-worn  feet." 

She  drew  her  light  wool  shawl  around  her  shoulders 
and  took  her  tall  son's  arm. 

For  a  long  while  they  strolled  in  silence,  passed  idly 
through  the  garden  where  masses  of  peonies  hung  over 
the  paths,  and  pansies,  iris,  and  forget-me-nots  made 
the  place  fragrant. 

It  was  not  until  they  came  to  the  plank  bridge  where 
the  meadow  rivulet,  under  its  beds  of  cress  and  mint, 
threaded  a  shining  way  toward  the  woods,  that  his 
mother  said  in  a  troubled  voice : 

"  You  are  not  happy,  Louis." 

"  Why,  mother — what  an  odd  idea  !  " 
389 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Am  I  mistaken?"  she  asked,  timidly. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  you  are.     I  am  very  happy." 

"  Then,"   she  said,   "  what  is   it  that  has   changed 

YOU  SO?  " 


;"You  are  not  happy,  Louis.'" 

"Changed  me?" 
"  Yes,  dear." 

"  I  am  not  changed,  mother." 

"  Do  you  think  a  mother   can  be  mistaken  in  her 
only  son?     You  are  so  subdued,  so  serious.     You  are 

390 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


like  men  who  have  known  sorrow.  .  .  .  What  sorrow 
have  you  ever  known,  Louis  ?  " 

"  None.  No  great  one,  mother.  Perhaps,  lately, 
I  have  developed — recognised — become  aware  of  the 
sombre  part  of  life — become  sensitive  to  it — to  unhap- 
piness  in  others — and  have  cared  more " 

"  You  speak  like  a  man  who  has  suffered." 

"  But  I  haven't,  mother,"  he  insisted.  "  Of  course, 
every  painter  worries.  I  did  last  winter — last  win 
ter — "  He  hesitated,  conscious  that  last  winter — 
on  the  snowy  threshold  of  the  new  year — sorrow  and 
pain  and  happiness  and  pity  had,  in  an  instant,  assumed 
for  him  a  significance  totally  new. 

"  Mother,"  he  said  slowly,  "  if  I  have  changed  it  is 
only  in  a  better  understanding  of  the  world  and  those 
who  live  in  it.  I  have  cared  very  little  about  people ; 
I  seem  to  have  come  to  care  more,  lately.  What  they 
did,  what  they  thought,  hoped,  desired,  endured,  suf 
fered,  interested  me  little  except  as  it  concerned  my 
work.  And  somehow,  since  then,  I  am  becoming  inter 
ested  in  people  for  their  own  sakes.  It's  a — new  sensa 
tion." 

He  smiled  and  laid  his  hand  over  hers : 

"  Do  you  know  I  never  even  appreciated  what  a 
good  man  Alexander  Cameron  is  until  recently.  Why, 
mother,  that  man  is  one  of  the  most  generous,  modest, 
kind,  charitable,  unselfish  fellows  in  the  world !  " 

"  His  behaviour  is  sometimes  a  little  extraordinary," 
said  his  mother — "  isn't  it?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  on  the  surface !  He's  full  of  boyish 
spirits.  He  dearly  loves  a  joke — but  the  greater  part 
of  that  interminable  funny  business  is  merely  to  mask 
the  modesty  of  a  man  whose  particular  perversity  is  a 

391 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


fear  that  people  might  discover  how  kind  and  how 
clever  he  really  is !  " 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  while,  then  his 
mother  said: 

"  Mr.  Querida  was  here.     Is  he  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

Neville  hesitated :  "  I'll  tell  you,  mother,"  he  said, 
"  I  don't  find  Querida  personally  very  congenial.  But 
I  have  no  doubt  he's  an  exceedingly  nice  fellow.  And 
he's  far  and  away  the  best  painter  in  America.  .  .  . 
When  did  he  go  back  to  town  ?  " 

"  Last  week.     I  did  not  care  for  him." 

"  You  and  father  seldom  do  care  for  new  acquaint 
ances,"  he  rejoined,  smiling.  "  Don't  you  think  it  is 
about  time  for  you  to  emerge  from  your  shells  and 
make  up  your  minds  that  a  few  people  have  been  born 
since  you  retired?  " 

"  People  have  been  born  in  China,  too,  but  that 
scarcely  interests  your  father  and  me." 

"  Let  it  interest  you,  mother.  You  have  no  idea 
how  amusing  new  people  are.  That's  the  way  to  keep 
young,  too." 

"  It  is  a  little  too  late  for  us  to  think  of  youth — 
or  to  think  as  youth  thinks — even  if  it  were  desir 
able." 

"  It  is  desirable.  Youth — which  will  be  age  to-mor 
row — may  venture  to  draw  a  little  consideration  in  ad 
vance " 

"  My  children  interest  me — and  I  give  their  youth 
my  full  consideration.  But  I  can  scarcely  be  expected 
to  find  any  further  vital  interest  in  youth — and  in  the 
complexity  of  its  modern  views  and  ideas.  You  ask 
impossibilities  of  two  very  old  people." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to.  I  ask  only,  then,  that  you  and 
392 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


father  take  a  vital  and  intelligent  interest  in  me.     Will 
you,  mother  ?  " 

"Intelligent?     What  do  you  mean,  Louis?" 

"  I  mean,"  he  said,  "  that  you  might  recognise  my 
right  to  govern  my  own  conduct ;  that  you  might  try  to 
sympathise  with  views  which  are  not  your  own — with 
the  ideas,  ideals,  desires,  convictions  which,  if  modern, 
are  none  the  less  genuine — and  are  mine." 

There  was   a  brief  silence ;  then : 

"  Louis,  are  you  speaking  with  any  thought  of— 
that  woman  in  your  mind?  "  she  asked  in  a  voice  that 
quivered  slightly. 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  said,  under  her  breath ;  "  I  knew 
it  was  that — I  knew  what  had  changed  you — was 
changing  you." 

"  Have  I  altered  for  the  worse  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  know,  Louis !  "  She  was 
leaning  heavily  on  his  elbow  now ;  he  put  one  arm 
around  her  and  they  walked  very  slowly  over  the  fra 
grant  grass. 

"  First  of  all,  mother,  please  don't  call  her,  '  that 
woman.'  Because  she  is  a  very  sweet,  innocent,  and 
blameless  girl.  .  .  .  Will  you  let  me  tell  you  a  little 
about  her  ?  " 

His  mother  bent  her  head  in  silence ;  and  for  a  long 
'while  he  talked  to  her  of  Valerie. 

The  sun  still  hung  high  over  the  Estwich  hills  when 
he  ended.  His  mother,  pale,  silent,  offered  no  comment 
until,  in  his  trouble,  he  urged  her.  Then  she  said: 

"  Your  father  will  never  consent." 

"  Let  me  talk  to  father.     Will  you  consent?  " 

"  I — Louis — it  would  break  our  hearts  if " 

393 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Not  when  you  know  her." 

"  Lily  knows  her  and  is  bitterly  opposed  to 
her " 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  astounded.  "  You  say  that 
my  sister  knows  Valerie  West?  " 

"  I — forgot,"  faltered  his  mother ;  "  I  ought  not  to 
have  said  anything." 

"  Where  did  Lily  meet  her  ?  "  he  asked,  bewildered. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Louis.  I  should  not  have 
spoken — 

"  Yes,  you  should  have !  It  is  my  affair ;  it  con 
cerns  me — and  it  concerns  Valerie — her  future 
and  mine — our  happiness.  Where  did  Lily  meet 
her?  " 

"  You  must  ask  that  of  Lily.  I  cannot  and  will 
not  discuss  it.  I  will  say  only  this :  I  have  seen  the 
— this  Miss  West.  She  is  at  present  a  guest  at  the 
villa  of  a — countess — of  whom  neither  your  father  nor 
I  ever  before  heard — and  whom  even  Lily  knows  so 
slightly  that  she  scarcely  bows  to  her.  And  yesterday, 
while  motoring,  we  met  them  driving  on  the  Estwich 
road  and  your  sister  told  us  who  they  were." 

After  a  moment  he  said  slowly :  "  So  you  have 
actually  seen  the  girl  I  am  in  love  with?  " 

«  I  saw— Miss  West." 

"  Can't  you  understand  that  I  am  in  love  with  her  ?  " 

"  Even  if  you  are  it  is  better  for  you  to  conquer 
your  inclination " 

"Why?" 

"  Because  all  your  life  long  you  will  regret  such  a 
marriage." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  nobody  will  care  to  receive  a  woman  for 
394 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


whom  you  can  make  no  explanation — even  if  you  are 
married  to  her." 

He  kept  his  patience. 

"Will  you  receive  her,  mother?  " 

She  closed  her  eyes,  drew  a  quick,  painful  breath: 
"  My  son's  wife — whoever  she  may  be — will  meet  with 
no  discourtesy  under  my  roof." 

"  Is  that  the  best  you  can  off er  us  ?  " 

"  Louis  !  Louis  !  —  if  it  lay  only  with  me  —  I 
would  do  what  you  wished — even  this — if  it  made  you 
happy- 
He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  in  silence. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  said, — "  it  is  not  I — - 
it  is  the  family — our  entire  little  world  against  her0 
It  would  be  only  an  eternal,  hopeless,  heart-breaking 
struggle  for  you,  and  for  her; — pain  for  you — deep 
pain  and  resentment  and  bitterness  for  those  who  did 
not — perhaps  could  not — take  your  views  of " 

"  I  don't  care,  mother,  as  long  as  you  and  father 
and  Lily  stand  by  her.  And  Valerie  won't  marry  me 
unless  you  do.  I  didn't  tell  you  that,  but  it  is  the 
truth.  And  I'm  fighting  very  hard  to  win  her — harder 
than  you  know — or  will  ever  know.  Don't  embitter 
me;  don't  let  me  give  up.  Because,  if  I  do,  it  means 
desperation — and  things  which  you  never  could  under 
stand.  .  .  .  And  I  want  you  to  talk  to  father.  Will 
you?  And  to  Lily,  too.  Its  fairer  to  warn  her  that 
I  have  learned  of  her  meeting  Valerie.  Then  I'll 
talk  to  them  both  and  see  what  can  be  done.  .  .  .  And, 
mother,  I  am  very  happy  and  very  grateful  and  very 
proud  that  you  are  going  to  stand  by  me — and  by  the 
loveliest  girl  in  all  the  world." 

395 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


That  night  Lily  came  to  his  room.  Her  eyes  were 
red,  but  there  was  fire  in  them.  She  seated  herself  and 
surveyed  her  brother  with  ominous  self-possession. 

"  Well,  Lily,"  he  said  pleasantly,  prepared  to  keep 
his  temper  at  all  hazards. 

"  Well,  Louis,  I  understand  from  mother  that  you 
have  some  questions  to  ask  me." 

"  No  questions,  little  sister ;  only  your  sympathetic 
attention  while  I  tell  you  how  matters  stand  with  me." 

"  You  require  too  much !  "  she  said  shortly. 

"  If  I  ask  for  your  sympathy  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  ask  it  for  yourself,  Louis.  But  if  you 
include  that " 

"  Please,  dear !  "  he  interrupted,  checking  her  with 
a  slight  gesture — for  an  instant  only ;  then  she  went  on 
in  a  determined  voice : 

"  Louis,  I  might  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  I  have 
no  sympathy  for  her.  I  wrote  to  her,  out  of  sheer 
kindness,  for  her  own  good — and  she  replied  so  inso 
lently  that — that  I  am  not  yet  perfectly  recovered " 

"What  did  you  write?" 

Mrs.  Collis  remained  disdainfully  silent,  but  her  eyes 
sparkled. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me,"  he  asked,  patiently,  "  what 
it  was  you  wrote  to  Valerie  West  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  tell  you  if  you  insist  on  knowing ! — 
even  if  you  do  misconstrue  it!  I  wrote  to  her —  for 
her  own  sake — and  to  avoid  ill-natured  comment, — 
suggesting  that  she  be  seen  less  frequently  with  you  in 
public.  I  wrote  as  nicely,  as  kindly,  as  delicately  as  I 
knew  how.  And  her  reply  was  a  practical  request  that 
I  mind  my  business !  .  .  .  Which  was  vulgar  and  out 
rageous,  considering  that  she  had  given  me  her  prom- 

396 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


ise — "  Mrs.  Collis  checked  herself  in  her  headlong 
and  indignant  complaint;  then  she  coloured  pain 
fully,  but  her  mouth  settled  into  tight,  uncompromising 
lines. 

"  What  promise  had  Valerie  West  made  you  ?  "  he 
asked,  resolutely  subduing  his  amazement  and  irrita 
tion. 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Collis  hesitated ;  then,  realising 
that  matters  had  gone  too  far  for  concealment,  she  an 
swered  almost  violently : 

"  She  promised  me  not  to  marry  you, — if  you  must 
know !  I  can't  help  what  you  think  about  it ;  I  real 
ised  that  you  were  infatuated — that  you  were  making 
a  fatal  and  terrible  mistake — ruining  life  for  yourself 
and  for  your  family — and  I  went  to  her  and  told  her 
so!  I've  done  all  I  could  to  save  you.  I  suppose  I 
have  gained  your  enmity  by  doing  it.  She  promised 
me  not  to  marry  you — but  she'll  probably  break  her 
word.  If  you  mean  to  marry  her  you'll  do  so,  no 
doubt.  But,  Louis,  if  you  do,  such  a  step  will  sever 
all  social  relations  between  you  and  your  family.  Be 
cause  I  will  not  receive  her !  Nor  will  my  friends — nor 
yours — nor  father's  and  mother's  friends !  And  that 
settles  it." 

He  spoke  with  great  care,  hesitating,  picking  and 
choosing  his  words : 

"  Is  it — possible  that  you  did — such  a  thing — as  to 
write  to  Valerie  West — threatening  her  with  my  fam 
ily's  displeasure  if  she  married  me?  " 

"  I  did  not  write  her  at  first.  The  first  time  I  went 
to  see  her.  And  I  told  her  kindly  but  plainly  what  I 
had  to  tell  her !  It  was  my  duty  to  do  it  and  I  didn't 
flinch." 

397 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Lily  was  breathing  fast ;  her  eyes  narrowed  unpleas 
antly. 

He  managed  to  master  his  astonishment  and  anger ; 
but  it  was  a  heavy  draught  on  his  reserve  of  self-dis 
cipline,  good  temper,  and  common  sense  to  pass  over 
this  thing  that  had  been  done  to  him  and  to  concentrate 
himself  upon  the  main  issue.  When  he  was  able  to 
speak  again,  calmly  and  without  resentment,  he  said : 

"  The  first  thing  for  us  to  do,  as  a  family,  is  to 
eliminate  all  personal  bitterness  from  this  discussion. 
There  must  be  no  question  of  our  affection  for  one  an 
other  ;  no  question  but  what  we  wish  to  do  the  best  by 
each  other.  I  accept  that  as  granted.  If  you  took 
the  step  which  you  did  take  it  was  because  you  really 
believed  it  necessary  for  my  happiness " 

"  I  still  believe  it !  "  she  insisted ;  and  her  lips  be 
came  a  thin,  hard  line. 

"  Then  we  won't  discuss  it.  But  I  want  to  ask 
you  one  thing;  have  you  talked  with  mother  about  it?  " 

"  Yes— naturally." 

"  Has  she  told  you  all  that  I  told  her  this  after 
noon?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.  It  does  not  alter  my  opinion  one 
particle,"  she  replied,  her  pretty  head  obstinately  low 
ered. 

He  said :  "  Valerie  West  will  not  marry  me  if  my 
family  continues  hostile  to  her." 

Lily  slowly  lifted  her  eyes  : 

"  Then  will  you  tell  me  why  she  permits  herself  to 
be  seen  so  constantly  with  you?  If  she  is  not  going  to 
marry  you  what  is  she  going  to  do?  Does  she  care 
what  people  are  saying  about  her? — and  about  you?" 

"  No  decent  people  are  likely  to  say  anything  un- 
398 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


pleasant  about  either  of  us,"  he  said,  keeping  a  tight 
rein  on  himself — but  the  curb  was  biting  deeply  now. 
"  Mother  will  stand  by  me,  Lily.  Will  you?  " 

His  sister's  face  reddened :  "  Louis,"  she  said,  "  I 
am  married;  I  have  children,  friends,  a  certain  posi 
tion  to  maintain.  You  are  unmarried,  careless  of 
conventions,  uninterested  in  the  kind  of  life  that 
I  and  my  friends  have  led,  and  will  always 
lead.  The  life,  the  society,  the  formalities,  the  con 
ventional  observances  are  all  part  of  our  lives,  and 
make  for  our  happiness  and  self-respect ;  but  they  mean 
absolutely  nothing  to  you.  And  you  propose  to  in 
vade  our  respectable  and  inoffensive  seclusion  with  a 
conspicuous  wife  who  has  been  a  notorious  professional 
model;  and  you  demand  of  your  family  that  they  re 
ceive  her  as  one  of  them !  Louis,  I  ask  you,  is  this  fair 
to  us?" 

He  said  very  gravely :  "  You  have  met  Valerie 
West.  Do  you  really  believe  that  either  the  dignity 
or  the  morals  of  the  family  circle  would  suffer  by  her 
introduction  to  it?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  her  morals !  "  said  his  sister, 
excitedly. 

"  Then  why  condemn  them  ?  " 

"  I  did  not ;  I  merely  reminded  you  that  she  is  a 
celebrated  professional  model." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  remind  me.  My  mother 
knows  it  and  will  stand  by  her.  Will  you  do  less  for 
your  own  brother?  " 

"  Louis !  You  are  cruel,  selfish,  utterly  heart 
less " 

"  I  am  trying  to  think  of  everybody  in  the  family 
who  is  concerned ;  but,  when  a  man's  in  love  he  can't 

399 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


help  thinking  a  little  of  the  woman  he  loves — espe 
cially  if  nobody  else  does."  He  turned  his  head  and 
looked  out  of  the  window.  Stars  were  shining  faintly 
in  a  luminous  sky.  His  face  seemed  to  have  grown  old 
and  gray  and  haggard: 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  he  said,  as  though 
speaking  to  himself ; — "  I  don't  know  where  to  turn. 
She  would  marry  me  if  you'd  let  her ;  she  will  never 
marry  me  if  my  family  is  unkind  to  her 

"  What  will  she  do,  then?  "  asked  Lily,  coolly* 

For  a  moment  he  let  her  words  pass,  then,  turned 
around.  The  expression  of  his  sister's  brightly  curious 
eyes  perplexed  him. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  disturbed. 

"  What  I  say,  Louis.  I  asked  you  what  Miss  West 
means  to  do  if  she  does  not  marry  you?  Discontinue 
her  indiscreet  intimacy  with  you?  " 

"Why  should  she?" 

Lily  said,  sharply :  "  I  would  not  have  to  put  that 
question  to  a  modest  girl." 

"  I  have  to  put  it  to  you!  "  he  retorted,  beginning 
to  lose  his  self-command.  "  Why  should  Valerie  West 
discontinue  her  friendship  with  me  because  my  family's 
stupid  attitude  toward  her  makes  it  impossible  for  a 
generous  and  proud  girl  to  marry  me  ?  " 

Lily,  pale,  infuriated,  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 

"  Because,"  she  retorted  violently,  "  if  that  in 
timacy  continues  much  longer  a  stupid  world  and  your 
stupid  family  will  believe  that  the  girl  is  your  mistress ! 
But  in  that  event,  thank  God,  the  infamy  will  rest 
where  it  belongs — not  on  us  !  " 

A  cold  rage  paralysed  his  speech ;  she  saw  its  ghastly 
reflection  on  his  white  and  haggard  face — saw  him 

400 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


quiver  under  the  shock ;  rose  involuntarily,  terrified  at 
the  lengths  to  which  passion  had  scourged  her : 

"  Louis,"  she  faltered—"  I— I  didn't  mean  that  !— 
I  was  beside  myself;  forgive  me,  please!  Don't  look 
like  that ;  you  are  frightening  me ; 

She  caught  his  arm  as  he  passed  her,  clung  to  it, 
pallid,  fearful,  imploring, — "  W-what  are  you  going  to 
do,  Louis !  Don't  go,  dear,  please.  I'm  sorry,  I'm 
very,  very  humble.  Won't  you  speak  to  me?  I  said 
too  much ;  I  was  wrong ; — I — I  will  try  to  be  different — 
try  to  reconcile  myself  to — to  what — you — wish — 

He  looked  down  at  her  where  she  hung  to  him,  tear 
ful  face  lifted  to  his : 

"  I  didn't  know  women  could  feel  that  way  about 
another  woman,"  he  said,  in  a  dull  voice.  "  There's 


no  use — no  us 
tt 


But — but  I  love  you  dearly,  Louis !  I  couldn't 
endure  it  to  have  anything  come  between  us — disrupt 
the  family " 

"  Nothing  will,  Lily.  ...  I  must  go  now." 

"  Don't  you  believe  I  love  you?  " 

He  drew  a  deep,  unconscious  breath. 

"  I  suppose  so.  Different  people  express  love 
differently.  There's  no  use  in  asking  you  to  be  dif 
ferent " 

She  said,  piteously :  "  I'm  trying.  Don't  you  see 
I'm  trying?  Give  me  time,  Louis!  Make  allowances. 
You  can't  utterly  change  people  in  a  few  hours." 

He  gazed  at  her  intently  for  a  moment. 

"  You  mean  that  you  are  trying  to  be  fair  to — 
her?" 

"  I — if  you  call  it  that ; — yes !  But  a  family  can 
not  adapt  itself,  instantaneously,  to  such  a  cataclysm 

401 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


as  threatens — I  mean — I  mean — oh,  Louis  !  Try  to 
understand  us  and  sympathise  a  little  with  us !  " 

His  arms  closed  around  her  shoulders : 

"  Little  sister,  we  both  have  the  family  temper — 
and  beneath  it,  the  family  instinct  for  cohesion.  If  we 
are  also  selfish  it  is  not  individual  but  family  selfish 
ness.  It  is  the  family  which  has  always  said  to  the 
world,  *  Noli  me  tangere!  '  while  we,  individually,  are 
really  inclined  to  be  kinder,  more  sympathetic,  more 
curious  about  the  neighbours  outside  our  gate.  Let  it 
be  so  now.  Once  inside  the  family,  what  can  harm 
Valerie?" 

"  Dearest,  dearest  brother,"  she  murmured,  "  you 
talk  like  a  foolish  man.  Women  understand  better. 
And  if  it  is  a  part  of  your  program  that  this  girl  is  to 
be  accepted  by  an  old-fashioned  society,  now  almost 
obsolete,  but  in  which  this  family  is  merely  a  single  su 
perannuated  unit,  that  program  can  never  be  carried 
out." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  I  am  not.  It  is  inevitable  that  if  you 
marry  this  girl  she  will  be  more  or  less  ignored,  iso 
lated,  humiliated,  overlooked  outside  our  own  little 
family  circle.  Even  in  that  limited  mob  which  the 
newspapers  call  New  York  Society — in  that  modern, 
wealthy,  hard-witted,  over- jewelled,  self-sufficient  league 
which  is  yet  too  eternally  uncertain  of  its  own  status  to 
assume  any  authority  or  any  responsibility  for  a 
stranger  without  credentials, — it  would  not  be  possible 
to  make  Valerie  West  acceptable  in  the  slightest  sense  of 
the  word.  Because  she  is  too  well  known ;  her  beauty  is 
celebrated;  she  has  become  famous.  Her  only  chance 
there — or  with  us — would  have  been  in  her  absolute 

402 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


anonymity.  Then  lies  might  have  done  the  rest.  But 
lying  is  now  useless  in  regard  to  her." 

"  Perfectly,"  he  said.     "  She  would  not  permit  it." 

In  his  vacant  gaze  there  was  something  changed — a 
fixedness  born  of  a  slow  and  hopeless  enlightenment. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  there  is  no  chance,"  he  said 
thoughtfully.  "  I  had  not  considered  that  aspect." 

"  I  had." 

He  shook  his  head  slightly,  gazing  through  the 
window  at  the  starry  lustre  overhead. 

"  I  wouldn't  care,"  he  said,  "  if  she  would  only 
marry  me.  If  she'd  do  that  I'd  never  bother  anybody 
— nor  embarrass  the  family " 

"  Louis !  " 

"  I  mean  make  any  social  demands  on  you.  .  .  . 
And,  as  for  the  world — "  He  slowly  shook  his  head 
again :  "  We  could  make  our  own  friends  and  our  own 
way — if  she  would  only  consent  to  do  it.  But  she 
never  will." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  she  will  not  marry  you  if  you 
ask  her  ?  "  began  Lily  incredulously. 

"  Absolutely." 

"Why?"   " 

"  For  your  sakes — yours,  and  mother's,  and  fath 
er's — and  for  mine." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  Lily  said  unsteadily : 

"  There — there  seems  to  be  a  certain — nobility— 
about  her.  ...  It  is  a  pity — a  tragedy — that  she  is 
what  she  is  !  " 

"  It  is  a  tragedy  that  the  world  is  what  it  is,"  he 
said.  "  Good  night." 

His  father  sent  for  him  in  the  morning ;  Louis  found 
403 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


him  reading  the   Tribune  in   his   room  and  sipping  a 
bowl  of  hot  milk  and  toast. 

"  What  have  you  been  saying  to  your  mother?  "  he 


"'What  have  you  been  saying  to  your  mother?'  he  asked." 

asked,  looking  up  through  his  gold-rimmed  spectacles 
and  munching  toast. 

"  Has  she  not  told  you,  father?  " 

"  Yes,  she  has.  ...  I  think  you  had  better  make  a 
trip  around  the  world." 

404 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  That  would  not  alter  matters." 

"  I  differ  with  you,"  observed  his  father,  leisurely 
employing  his  napkin. 

"  There  is  no  use  considering  it,"  said  his  son  pa 
tiently. 

"  Then  what  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  do." 

"  By  that  somewhat  indefinite  expression  I  suppose 
that  you  intend  to  pursue  a  waiting  policy?  " 

"  A  waiting  policy  ?  "  His  son  laughed,  mirthless 
ly.  "  What  am  I  to  wait  for?  If  you  all  were  kind 
to  Valerie  West  she  might,  perhaps,  consent  to  marry 
me.  But  it  seems  that  even  our  own  family  circle  has 
not  sufficient  authority  to  protect  her  from  our  friends' 
neglect  and  humiliation.  .  .  . 

"  She  warned  me  that  it  would  be  so,  long  ago.  I  did 
not  believe  it ;  I  could  not  comprehend  it.  But,  some 
how,  Lily  has  made  me  believe  it.  And  so  have  you.  I 
guess  it  must  be  true.  And  if  that's  all  I  have  to  offer 
my  wife,  it's  not  enough  to  compensate  her  for  her  loss 
of  freedom  and  happiness  and  self-respect  among  those 
who  really  care  for  her." 

"  Do  you  give  me  to  understand  that  you  renounce 
all  intentions  of  marrying  this  girl?  "  asked  his  father, 
breaking  more  toast  into  his  bowl  of  milk. 

"  Yes,"  said  his  son,  listlessly. 

"  Thank  God !  "  said  his  father ;  "  come  here,  my 
son." 

They  shook  hands ;  the  son's  lifeless  arm  fell  to  his 
side  and  he  stood  looking  at  the  floor  in  silence.  The 
father  took  a  spoonful  of  hot  milk  with  satisfaction, 
and,  after  the  younger  man  had  left  the  room,  he  re 
sumed  his  newspaper.  He  was  particularly  interested 

405 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


in  the  "  Sunshine  Column,"  which  dispensed  sweetness 
and  light  under  a  poetic  caption  too  beautiful  to  be 
true  in  a  coldly  humorous  world. 

That  afternoon  Gordon  Collis  said  abruptly  to 
Neville : 

"  You  look  like  the  devil,  Louis." 

"Do  I?" 

"  You  certainly  do."  And,  in  a  lower  voice :  "  I 
guess  I've  heard  what's  the  matter.  Don't  worry.  It's 
a  thing  about  which  nobody  ever  ought  to  give  any 
body  any  advice — so  I'll  give  you  some.  Marry  who 
ever  you  damn  please.  It'll  be  all  the  same  after  that 
oak  I  planted  this  morning  is  half  grown." 

"  Gordon,"  he  said,  surprised,  "  I  didn't  suppose 
you  were  liberal." 

"  Liberal !  Why,  man  alive !  Do  you  think  a  fel 
low  can  live  out  of  doors  as  I  have  lived,  and  see  germs 
sprout,  and  see  mountain  ranges  decay,  and  sit  on  a  few 
glaciers,  and  swing  a  pick  into  a  mother-lode — and  not 
be  liberal?  Do  you  suppose  ten-cent  laws  bother  me 
when  I'm  up  against  the  blind  laws  that  made  the 
law-makers? — laws  that  made  life  itself  before  Christ 
lived  to  conform  to  them?  ...  I  married  where  I  loved. 
It  chanced  that  my  marriage  with  your  sister 
didn't  clash  with  the  sanctified  order  of  things  in  Man 
hattan  town.  But  if  your  sister  had  been  the  maid 
who  dresses  her,  and  I  had  loved  her,  I'd  have  married 
her  all  the  same  and  have  gone  about  the  pleasures  and 
duties  of  procreation  and  conservation  exactly  as  I  go 
about  'em  now.  ...  I  wonder  how  much  the  Almighty 
was  thinking  about  Tenth  Street  when  the  first  pair 
of  anthropoids  mated?  Nobilitas  sola  est  atque  unica 

406 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


virtus.  If  you  love  each  other — Noli  pugnare  duobus. 
.  .  .  And  I'm  going  into  the  woods  to  look  for  gin 
seng.  Want  to  come?  " 

Neville  went.  Cameron  and  Stephanie,  equipped 
with  buckskin  gloves,  a  fox  terrier,  and  digging  appa 
ratus,  joined  them  just  where  the  slender  meadow  brook 
entered  the  woods. 

"  There  are  mosquitoes  here !  "  exclaimed  Cameron 
wrathfully.  "  All  day  and  every  day  I'm  being 
stung  down  town,  and  I'm  not  going  to  stand  for  it 
here!" 

Stephanie  let  him  aid  her  to  the  top  of  a  fallen  log, 
glancing  back  once  or  twice  toward  Neville,  who  was 
sauntering  forward  among  the  trees,  pretending  to  look 
for  ginseng. 

"  Do  you  notice  how  Louis  has  changed  ?  "  she  said, 
keeping  her  balance  on  the  log.  "  I  cannot  bear  to 
see  him  so  thin  and  colourless." 

Cameron  now  entertained  a  lively  suspicion  how 
matters  stood,  and  knew  that  Stephanie  also  suspected; 
but  he  only  said,  carelessly:  "  It's  probably  dissipation. 
You  know  what  a  terrible  pace  he's  been  going  from 
the  cradle  onward." 

She  smiled  quietly.  "  Yes,  I  know,  Sandy.  And  I 
know,  too,  that  you  are  the  only  man  who  has  been  able 
to  keep  up  that  devilish  pace  with  him." 

"  I've  led  a  horrible  life,"  muttered  Cameron  darkly. 

Stephanie  laughed;  he  gave  her  his  hand  as  she 
stood  balanced  on  the  big  log;  she  laid  her  fingers  in 
his  confidently,  looked  into  his  honest  face,  still  laugh 
ing,  then  sprang  lightly  to  the  ground. 

"  What  a  really  good  man  you  are !  "  she  said  tor- 
mentingly. 

407 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


66  Oh,  heaven !  If  you  call  me  that  I'm  really  done 
for!" 

"  Done  for?  "  she  exclaimed  in  surprise.      "  How?  " 

"  Done  for  as  far  as  you  are  concerned." 

"  I  ?  Why  how,  and  with  what  am  I  concerned, 
Sandy?  I  don't  understand  you." 

But  he  only  turned  red  and  muttered  to  himself  and 
strolled  about  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  kicking 
the  dead  leaves  as  though  he  expected  to  find  something 
astonishing  under  them.  And  Stephanie  glanced  at 
him  sideways  once  or  twice,  thoughtfully,  curiously, 
but  questioned  him  no  further. 

Gordon  Collis  pottered  about  in  a  neighbouring 
thicket ;  the  fox  terrier  was  chasing  chipmunks.  As 
for  Neville  he  had  already  sauntered  out  of  sight 
among  the  trees. 

Stephanie,  seated  on  a  dry  and  mossy  stump,  pre 
occupied  with  her  own  ruminations,  looked  up  absently 
as  Cameron  came  up  to  her  bearing  floral  offerings. 

"  Thank  you,  Sandy,"  she  said,  as  he  handed  her 
a  cluster  of  wild  blossoms.  Then,  fastening  them  to 
her  waist,  she  glanced  up  mischieviously : 

"  How  funny  you  are !  You  look  and  act  like  a 
little  boy  at  a  party  presenting  his  first  offering  to  the 
eternal  feminine." 

"  It's  my  first  offering,"  he  said  coolly. 

"  Oh,  Sandy  !     With  your  devilish  record !  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  that  I'm  thirty-two 
years  old?  And  that  you  are  twenty-two?  And  that 
since  you  were  twelve  and  I  was  twenty  odd  I've  been 
in  love  with  you  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  blank  dismay  for  a  moment, 
then  forced  a  laugh: 

408 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Of  course  I  know  it,  Sandy.  It's  the  kind  of 
love  a  girl  cares  most  about 

"  It's  really  love,"  said  Cameron,  un-smiling — "  the 
kind  I'm  afraid  she  doesn't  care  very  much  about." 


"'If  you'll  place  a  lump  of  sugar  on  my  nose,  and  say  "when," 
I'll  perform.'  " 

She  hesitated,  then  met  his  gaze  with  a  distressed 
smile : 

"  You  don't  really  mean  that,  Sandy " 

14  409 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I've  meant  it  for  ten  years.  .  .  .  But  it  doesn't 
matter " 

"  Sandy !  ...  It  does  matter— if " 

"  No,  it  doesn't.  .  .  .  Come  on  and  kick  these  leaves 
about  and  we'll  make  a  million  dollars  in  ginseng !  " 

But  she  remained  seated,  mute,  her  gaze  a  sorrow 
ful  interrogation  which  at  length  he  could  not  pretend 
to  ignore: 

"  Stephanie  child,  don't  worry.  I'm  not  worrying. 
I'm  glad  I  told  you.  .  .  .  Now  just  let  me  go  on  as 
I've  always  gone " 

"  How  can  we?  " 

"  Easily.  Shut  your  eyes,  breathe  deeply,  lifting 
both  arms  and  lowering  them  while  counting  ten  in  Ger 
man — 

"  Sandy,  don't  be  so  foolish  at — such  a  time." 

"  Such  a  time?  What  time  is  it?  "  pretending  to 
consult  his  watch  with  great  anxiety.  Then  a  quick 
smile  of  relief  spread  over  his  features :  "  It's  all  right, 
Stephanie ;  it's  my  hour  to  be  foolish.  If  you'll  place  a 
lump  of  sugar  on  my  nose,  and  say  '  when,'  I'll  perform." 

There  was  no  answering  smile  on  her  face. 

"  It's  curious,"  she  said,  "  how  a  girl  can  make  a 
muddle  of  life  without  even  trying." 

"  But  just  think  what  you  might  have  done  if  you'd 
tried !  You've  much  to  be  thankful  for,"  he  said 
gravely. 

She  raised  her  eyes,  considering  him: 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  under  her  breath. 

"  Sure  thing,  Stephanie.  You  might  have  done 
worse;  you  might  have  married  me.  Throw  away 
those  flowers — there's  a  good  girl — and  forget  what 
they  meant." 

410 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Slowly,  deliberately,  blossom  by  blossom  she  drew 
them  from  her  girdle  and  laid  them  on  the  moss  beside 
her. 

"  There's  one  left,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "  Raus  mit 
it!" 

But  she  made  no  motion  to  detach  it;  appeared  to 
be  unconscious  of  it  and  of  him  as  she  turned  her  face 
and  looked  silently  toward  the  place  where  Neville  had 
disappeared. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  when  Gordon  was  ready  to 
return  to  the  house,  he  shouted  for  Neville.  Cameron 
also  lifted  up  his  voice  in  a  series  of  prolonged  howls. 

But  Neville  was  far  beyond  earshot,  and  still  walk 
ing  through  woods  and  valleys  and  pleasant  meadows 
in  the  general  direction  of  the  Estwich  hills. 

Somewhere  there  amid  that  soft  rolling  expanse  of 
green  was  the  woman  who  would  never  marry  him. 
And  it  was  now,  at  last,  he  decided  that  he  would  never 
take  her  on  any  other  terms  even  though  they  were  her 
own  terms ;  that  he  must  give  her  up  to  chance  again 
as  innocent  as  chance  had  given  her  into  his  brief  keep 
ing.  No,  she  would  never  accept  his  terms  and  face  the 
world  with  him  as  his  wife.  And  so  he  must  give  her 
up.  For  he  believed  that,  in  him,  the  instinct  of  moral 
law  had  been  too  carefully  developed  ever  to  be  deliber 
ately  ignored;  he  still  believed  marriage  to  be  not  only 
a  rational  social  procedure,  not  only  a  human  com 
promise  and  a  divine  convention,  but  the  only  possible 
sanctuary  where  love  might  dwell,  and  remain,  and 
permanently  endure  inviolate. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE  Countess  Helene  had  taken  her  maid  and  gone 
to  New  York  on  business  for  a  day  or  two,  leaving  Va 
lerie  to  amuse  herself  until  her  return. 

Which  was  no  hardship  for  Valerie.  The  only 
difficulty  lay  in  there  being  too  much  to  do. 

In  the  first  place  she  had  become  excellent  friends 
with  the  farmer  and  had  persuaded  him  to  delegate  to 
her  a  number  of  his  duties.  She  had  to  collect  the 
newly  laid  eggs,  hunt  up  stolen  nests,  inspect  and  feed 
the  clucking,  quacking,  gobbling  personnel  of  the  barn 
yard  which  came  crowding  to  her  clear-voiced  call. 

As  for  the  cattle,  she  was  rather  timid  about  ven 
turing  to  milk  since  the  Ogilvy's  painful  and  undigni 
fied  debut  as  an  amateur  Strephon. 

However,  she  assisted  at  pasture  call  accompanied 
by  a  fat  and  lazy  collie ;  and  she  petted  and  salted  the 
herd  to  her  heart's  content. 

Then  there  were  books  and  magazines  to  be  read, 
leisurely ;  and  hammocks  to  lie  in,  while  her  eyes 
watched  the  sky  where  clouds  sailed  in  snowy  squadrons 
out  of  the  breezy  west. 

And  what  happier  company  for  her  than  her 
thoughts — what  tenderer  companionship  than  her 
memories ;  what  more  absorbing  fellowship  than  the 
little  busy  intimate  reflections  that  came  swarming 
around  her,  more  exciting,  more  impetuous,  more  ex- 

412 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


quisitely  disturbing  as  the  hurrying,  sunny  hours  sped 
away  and  the  first  day  of  June  drew  nigh? 

She  spent  hours  alone  on  the  hill  behind  the  house, 


"And  what  happier   company   for  her   than  her  thoughts  —  what 
tenderer  companionship  than  her  memories?" 

lying  full  length  in  the  fragrant,  wild  grasses,  looking 
across  a  green  and  sunlit  world  toward  Ashuelyn. 

She  had  told  him  not  to  attempt  to  come  to  Est- 
wich ;  and,  though  she  knew  she  had  told  him  wisely, 
often  and  often  there  on  her  breezy  hilltop  she  wished 

413 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


that  she  hadn't — wished  that  he  would  disregard  her 
request — hoped  he  would — lay  there,  a  dry  grass  stem 
between  her  lips,  thinking  how  it  would  be  if,  suddenly, 
down  there  by — well,  say  down  by  that  big  oak,  for 
example,  a  figure  should  stroll  into  view  along  the 
sheep-path.  .  .  .  And  at  first — just  to  prolong  the  ten 
sion — perhaps  she  wouldn't  recognise  him — just  for  a 
moment.  Then,  suddenly— 

But  she  never  got  beyond  that  first  blissful  instant 
of  recognition — the  expression  of  his  face — his  quick 
spring  forward — and  she,  amazed,  rising  to  her  feet 
and  hastening  forward  to  meet  him.  For  she  never 
pictured  herself  as  standing  still  to  await  the  man  she 
loved. 

When  Helene  left,  Valerie  had  the  place  to  herself; 
and,  without  any  disloyalty  to  the  little  countess,  she 
experienced  a  new  pleasure  in  the  liberty  of  an  indo 
lence  which  exacted  nothing  of  her. 

She  prowled  around  the  library,  luxuriously,  dip 
ping  into  inviting  volumes ;  she  strolled  at  hazard  from 
veranda  to  garden,  from  garden  to  lawn,  from  lawn  to 
farmyard. 

About  luncheon  time  she  arrived  at  the  house  with 
her  arms  full  of  scented  peonies,  and  spent  a  long  while 
selecting  the  receptacles  for  them. 

Luncheon  was  a  deliciously  lazy  affair  at  which  she 
felt  at  liberty  to  take  her  own  time;  and  she  did  so, 
scanning  the  morning  paper,  which  had  just  been  de 
livered  ;  making  several  bites  of  every  cherry  and  straw 
berry,  and  being  good  to  the  three  cats  with  asparagus 
ends  and  a  saucer  of  chicken  bouillon. 

Later,  reclining  in  the  hammock,  she  mended  a  pair 
of  brier-torn  stockings ;  and  when  that  thrifty  and 

414 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


praiseworthy    task    was    finished,    she    lay    back    and 
thought  of  Neville. 


"She  prowled  around  the  library,  luxuriously,  dipping  into  inviting 

volumes." 

But  at  what  moment  in  any  day  was  she  ever  en 
tirely  unconscious  of  him?  Besides,  she  could  always 
think  of  him  better — summon  him  nearer — visualise 

415 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


him  more  clearly,  when  she  was  afield,  the  blue  sky 
above  her,  the  green  earth  under  foot,  and  companioned 
only  by  memory. 

So  she  went  to  her  room,  put  on  her  stout  little 
shoes  and  her  walking  skirt ;  braided  her  hair  and  made 
of  it  a  soft,  light,  lustrous  turban ;  and  taking  her  dog- 
whip,  ran  down  stairs. 

The  fat  old  collie  came  wagging  up  to  the  whistle, 
capered  clumsily  as  in  duty  bound ;  but  before  she  had 
entirely  traversed  the  chestnut  woods  he  basely  deserted 
her  and  waddled  back  to  the  kitchen  door  where  a 
thoughtful  cook  and  a  succulent  bone  were  combina 
tions  not  unknown. 

Valerie  missed  him  presently,  and  whistled;  but  the 
fat  sybarite,  if  within  earshot,  paid  no  attention;  and 
she  was  left  to  swing  her  dog-whip  and  stroll  on 
alone. 

Her  direction  lay  along  the  most  inviting  by-roads 
and  paths ;  and  she  let  chance  direct  her  feet  through 
this  friendly,  sunny  land  where  one  little  hill  was  as 
green  as  another,  and  one  little  brook  as  clear  and 
musical  as  another,  and  the  dainty,  ferny  patches  of 
woodlands  resembled  one  another. 

It  was  a  delight  to  scramble  over  stone  walls ;  she 
adored  lying  flat  and  wriggling  under  murderous 
barbed-wire,  feeling  the  weeds  brush  her  face.  When 
a  brook  was  a  little  too  wide  to  jump,  it  was  ecstasy  to 
attempt  it.  She  got  both  shoes  wet  and  loved  it.  Bram 
bles  plucked  boldly  at  her  skirt;  wild  forest  blossoms 
timidly  summoned  her  aside  to  kneel  and  touch  them, 
but  to  let  them  live ;  squirrels  threatened  her  and  rushed 
madly  up  and  down  trees  defying  her;  a  redstart  in 
vermilion  and  black,  fussed  about  her  where  she  sat, 

416 


"'Miss  West!'  he  exclaimed.     'How  on  earth  did  you  ever  find  your 
way  into  my  woods?'" 

closing  and  spreading  its  ornamental  tail  for  somebody's 
benefit — perhaps  for  hers. 

She  was  not  tired ;  she  did  not  suppose  that  she  had 
wandered  very  far,  but,  glancing  at  her  watch,  she  was 
surprised  to  find  how  late  it  was.  And  she  decided  to 
return. 

After  she  had  been  deciding  to  return  for  about  an 
hour  it  annoyed  her  to  find  that  she  could  not  get  clear  of 
the  woods.  It  seemed  preposterous  ;  the  woods  could  not 
be  very  extensive.  As  for  being  actually  lost  it  seemed 
too  absurd.  Life  is  largely  composed  of  absurdities. 

There  was  one  direction  which  she  had  not  tried,  and 
it  lay  along  a  bridle  path,  but  whether  north  or  south 
or  east  or  west  she  was  utterly  unable  to  determine. 
She  felt  quite  certain  that  Estwich  could  not  lie  either 

417 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


way  along  that  bridle-path  which  stretched  almost  a 
straight,  dark  way  under  the  trees  as  far  as  she  could  see. 

Vexed,  yet  amused,  at  her  own  stupid  plight,  she 

was  standing  in  the  road,  trying  to  make  up  her  mind 

to  try  it,  when,  far  down  the  vista,  a  horseman  ap- 

*  peared,   coming  on   at   a  leisurely   canter ;  and  with  a 

sigh  of  relief  she  saw  her  troubles  already  at  an  end. 

He  drew  bridle  abreast  of  her,  stared,  sprang  from 
his  saddle  and,  cap  in  hand,  came  up  to  her  holding  out 
his  hand: 

"  Miss  West !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  How  on  earth  did 
you  ever  find  your  way  into  my  woods  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Cardemon,"  she  said,  thankful 
to  encounter  even  him  in  her  dilemma.  "  I  must  have 
walked  a  great  deal  farther  than  I  meant  to." 

"  You've  walked  at  least  five  miles  if  you  came  by 
road;  and  nobody  knows  how  far  if  you  came  across 
country,"  he  said,  staring  at  her  out  of  his  slightly 
prominent  eyes. 

"  I  did  come  across  country.  And  if  you  will  be 
kind  enough  to  start  me  toward  home " 

"  You  mean  to  walk  back !  " 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  I  won't  permit  it !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It's  only  a 
little  way  across  to  the  house  and  we'll  just  step  over 
and  I'll  have  a  car  brought  around  for  you " 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  not  tired " 

"  You  are  on  my  land,  therefore  you  are  my  guest," 
he  insisted.  "  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  go  back  on 
foot » 

"  Mr.  Cardemon,  if  you  please,  I  very  much  prefer 
to  return  in  my  own  way." 

"  What  an  obstinate  girl  you  are !  "  he  said,  with 
418 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


his  uncertain  laugh,  which  never  came  until  he  had  pre 
judged  its  effect  on  the  situation;  but  the  puffy  flesh 
above  his  white  riding-stock  behind  his  lobeless  ears 
reddened,  and  a  slow,  thickish  colour  came  into  his  face 
and  remained  under  the  thick  skin. 

"  If  you  won't  let  me  send  you  back  in  a  car,1*'  lie 
said,  "  you  at  least  won't  refuse  a  glass  of  sherry  and 
a  biscuit " 

"  Thank  you — I  haven't  time " 

"  My  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Munn,  is  on  the  premises," 
he  persisted. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  but " 

"  Oh,  don't  turn  a  man  down  so  mercilessly,  Miss 
West!" 

"  You  are  exceedingly  amiable,"  she  repeated,  "  but 
I  must  go  at  once." 

He  switched  the  weeds  with  his  crop,  then  the  un 
certain  laugh  came: 

"  I'll  show  you  a  short  cut,"  he  said.  His  promi 
nent  eyes  rested  on  her,  passed  over  her  from  head  to 
foot,  then  wandered  askance  over  the  young  woodland. 

"In  which  direction  lies  Estwich?  "  she  asked,  lift 
ing  her  gaze  to  meet  his  eyes ;  but  they  avoided  her  as 
he  answered,  busy  fumbling  with  a  girth  that  required 
no  adjustment: 

"  Over  yonder," — making  a  slight  movement  with 
his  head.  Then  taking  his  horse  by  the  head  he  said 
heartily : 

"  Awfully  sorry  you  won't  accept  my  hospitality ; 
but  if  you  won't  you  won't,  and  we'll  try  to  find  a 
short  cut." 

He  led  his  horse  out  of  the  path  straight  ahead 
through  the  woods,  and  she  walked  beside  him. 

419 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Of  course  you  know  the  way,  Mr.  Cardemon  ?  " 
she  said  pleasantly. 

"  I  ought  to — unless  the  undergrowth  has  changed 
the  looks  of  things  since  I've  been  through." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you've  been  through  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  just  recollect,"  he  said  carelessly.  "  I 
'  guess  it  will  be  all  right." 

For  a  while  they  walked  steadily  forward  among 
the  trees ;  he  talking  to  her  with  a  frank  and  detached 
amiability,  asking  about  the  people  at  Estwich,  inter 
ested  to  hear  that  the  small  house-party  had  disin 
tegrated,  surprised  to  learn  that  the  countess  had  gone 
to  town. 

"  Are  you  entirely  alone  in  the  house  ?  "  he  asked ; 
and  his  eyes  seemed  to  protrude  a  little  more  than  usual. 

"  Entirely,"  she  said  carelessly ;  "  except  for  Binns 
and  his  wife  and  the  servants." 

"  Why  didn't  you  'phone  a  fellow  to  stop  over  to 
lunch?  "  he  asked,  suddenly  assuming  a  jovial  manner 
which  their  acquaintance  did  not  warrant.  "  We  coun 
try  folk  don't  stand  on  ceremony  you  know." 

"  I  did  not  know  it,"  she  said  quietly. 

His  bold  gaze  rested  on  her  again ;  again  the  uncer 
tain  laugh  followed: 

"  If  you'd  ask  me  to  dine  with  you  to-night  I'd  take 
I  it  as  a  charming  concession  to  our  native  informality. 
What  do  you  say,  Miss  West?  " 

She  forced  a  smile,  making  a  sign  of  negation  with 
her  head,  but  he  began  to  press  her  until  his  im 
portunities  and  his  short,  abrupt  laughter  embarrassed 
her. 

"  I  couldn't  ask  anybody  without  permission  from 
my  hostess,"  she  said,  striving  to  maintain  the  light? 

420 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


careless  tone  which  his  changing  manner  toward  her 
made  more  difficult  for  her. 

"  Oh,  come,  Miss  West !  "  he  said  in  a  loud  humor 
ous  voice ;  "  don't  pass  me  the  prunes  and  prisms  but 
be  a  good  little  sport  and  let  a  fellow  come  over  to  see 
you !  You  never  did  give  me  half  a  chance  to  know 
you,  but  you're  hands  across  the  table  with  that  Ogilvy 
artist  and  Jose  Querida — 

"  I've  known  them  rather  longer  than  I  have  you, 
Mr.  Cardemon." 

"  That's  my  handicap !  I'm  not  squealing.  All  I 
want  is  to  start  in  the  race " 

"  What  race?  "  she  asked  coolly,  turning  on  him  a 
level  gaze  that,  in  spite  of  her,  she  could  not  maintain 
under  the  stare  with  which  he  returned  it.  And  again 
the  slight  uneasiness  crept  over  her  and  involuntarily 
she  looked  around  her  at  the  woods. 

"  How  far  is  it  now?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I'm  anxious  to  get  back.  Could  you 
tell  me  how  near  to  some  road  we  are  ?  " 

He  halted  and  looked  around ;  she  watched  him  anx 
iously  as  he  tossed  his  bridle  over  his  horse's  neck  and 
walked  forward  into  a  little  glade  where  the  late  rays 
of  the  sun  struck  ruddy  and  warm  on  the  dry  grass. 

"  That's  singular,"  he  said  as  she  went  forward 
into  the  open  where  he  stood ;  "  I  don't  seem  to  remem 
ber  this  place." 

"  But  you  know  about  where  we  are,  don't  you  ?  " 
she  asked,  resolutely  suppressing  the  growing  uneasi 
ness  and  anxiety. 

"  Well — I  am  not  perfectly  certain."  He  kept  his 
eyes  off  her  while  he  spoke;  but  when  she  also  turned 

421 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


and  gazed  helplessly  at  the  woods  encircling  her,  his 
glance  stole  toward  her. 

"  You're  not  scared,  are  you?  "  he  asked,  and  then 
laughed  abruptly. 

"  Not  in  the  slightest." 

"  Sure !  You're  a  perfectly  good  sport.  .  .  .  I'll 
tell  you — I'll  leave  my  horse  for  one  of  my  men  to  hunt 
up  later,  and  we'll  start  off  together  on  a  good  old-fash 
ioned  hike  !  Are  you  game  ?  " 

"  Yes — if  I  only  knew — if  you  were  perfectly  sure 
how  to  get  to  the  edge  of  the  woods.  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  be  lost  in  your  own  woods ' 

"  I  don't  believe  I  am !  "  he  said,  laughing  violently. 
"  The  Estwich  road  must  be  over  in  that  direction. 
Come  ahead,  Miss  West;  the  birds  can  cover  us  up  if 
worst  comes  to  worst !  " 

She  went  with  him,  entering  the  thicker  growth  with 
a  quick,  vigorous  little  stride  as  though  energy  and 
rapidity  of  motion  could  subdue  the  misgiving  that 
threatened  to  frighten  her  sooner  or  later. 

Over  logs,  boulders,  gulleys,  she  swung  forward,  he 
supporting  her  from  time  to  time  in  spite  of  her  hasty 
assurance  that  she  did  not  require  aid. 

Once,  before  she  could  prevent  it,  he  grasped  her 
and  fairly  swung  her  across  a  gulley ;  and  again,  as 
she  gathered  herself  to  jump,  his  powerful  arm  slipped 
around  her  body  and  he  lowered  her  to  the  moss  below, 
leaving  her  with  red  cheeks  and  a  rapid  heart  to  climb 
the  laurel-choked  ravine  beside  him. 

It  was  breathless  work ;  again  and  again,  before  she 
could  prevent  it,  he  forced  his  assistance  on  her ;  and  in 
the  abrupt,  almost  rough  contact  there  was  something 
that  began  at  last  to  terrify  her — weaken  her — so  that, 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


at  the  top  of  the  slope,  she  caught  breathless  at  a  tree 
and  leaned  against  the  trunk  for  a  moment,  closing  her 
eyes. 

"  You  poor  little  girl,"  he  breathed  close  to  her 
ear;  and  as  her  startled  eyes  flew  open,  he  drew  her 
into  his  arms. 

For  a  second  his  congested  face  and  prominent,  pale 
eyes  swam  before  her;  then  with  a  convulsive  gasp  she 
wrenched  herself  partly  free  and  strained  away  from 
his  grasp,  panting. 

"  Let  me  go,  Mr.  Cardemon !  " 

"  Look  here,  Valerie,  you  know  I'm  crazy  about 
you " 

"Will  you  let  me  go?" 

"  Oh,  come,  little  girl,  I  know  who  you  are,  all 
right!  Be  a  good  little  sport  and " 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  whispered  between  her  teeth. 
Then  his  reel,  perspiring  features — the  prominent  eyes 
and  loose  mouth  drew  nearer — nearer — and  she  struck 
blindly  at  the  face  with  her  dog-whip — twice  with  the 
lash  and  once  with  the  stag-horn  handle.  And  the  next 
instant  she  w%s  running. 

He  caught  her  at  the  foot  of  the  slope ;  she  saw 
blood  on  his  cheek  and  puffy  welts  striping  his  distorted 
features,  strove  to  strike  him  again,  but  felt  her  arm 
powerless  in  his  grasp. 

"  Are  you  mad !  "  she  gasped. 

"  Mad  about  you!  For  God's  sake  listen  to  me, 
Valerie!  Batter  me,  tear  me  to  pieces — and  I  won't 
care,  if  you'll  listen  to  me  a  moment " 

She  struggled  silently,  fiercely,  to  use  her  whip,  to 
wrench  herself  free. 

"  I  tell  you  I  love  you !  "  he  said ;  "  I'd  go  through 
423 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


hell   for  you.      You've   got   to   listen  —  you've   got   U 
know » 

"  You  coward !  "  she  sobbed. 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  say  to  me  if  you'll  listen  a 
moment 

"  As  Rita  Tevis  listened  to  you !  "  she  said,  white  j 
to  the  lips — "  you  murderer  of  souls !  "     And,  as  his 
grasp    relaxed    for   a   second,    she    tore   her   arm   free, 
sprang  forward  and  slashed  him  across  the  mouth  with 
the  lash. 

Behind  her  she  heard  his  sharp  cry  of  pain,  heard 
him  staggering  about  in  the  underbrush.  Terror 
winged  her  feet  and  she  fairly  flew  along  the  open  ridge 
and  down  through  the  dead  leaves  across  a  soft,  green, 
marshy  hollow,  hearing  him  somewhere  in  the  woods 
behind  her,  coming  on  at  a  heavy  run. 

For  a  long  time  she  ran ;  and  suddenly  collapsed, 
falling  in  a  huddled  desperate  heap,  her  slender  hands 
catching  at  her  throat. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  she  saw  him  striding  hither 
and  thither,  examining  the  soft  forest  soil  or  halting 
to  listen — then  as  though  scourged  into  a<ftion,  running 
aimlessly  toward  where  she  lay,  casting  about  on  every 
side  like  a  burly  dog  at  fault. 

Once,  when  he  stood  not  very  far  away,  and  she  had 
hidden  her  face  in  her  arms,  trembling  like  a  doomed . 
thing — she  heard  him  call  to  her — heard  the  cry  burst 
from  him  as  though  in  agony : 

"  Valerie,  don't  be  afraid !  I  was  crazy  to  touch 
you ; — I'll  let  you.  cut  me  to  pieces  if  you'll  only  answer 
me." 

And  again  he  shouted,  in  a  voice  made  thin  by 
fright :  "  For  God's  sake,  Valerie,  think  of  me  for  a 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


moment.  Don't  run  off  like  that  and  let  people  know 
what's  happened  to  you !  " 

Then,  in  a  moment,  his  heavy,  hurried  tread  re 
sounded  ;  and  he  must  have  run  very  near  to  where  she 
crouched,  because  she  could  hear  him  whimpering  in  his 
fear ;  but  he  ran  on  past  where  she  lay,  calling  to  her 
at  intervals,  until  his  frightened  voice  sounded  at  a  dis 
tance  and  she  could  scarcely  hear  the  rustle  of  the  dead 
leaves  under  his  hurrying  tread. 

Even  then  terror  held  her  chained,  breathing  fast 
like  a  wounded  thing,  eyes  bright  with  the  insanity  of 
her  fear.  She  lay  flat  in  the  leaves,  not  stirring. 

The  last  red  sunbeams  slanted  through  the  woods, 
painting  tree  trunks  crimson  and  running  in  fiery  fur 
rows  through  the  dead  leaves ;  the  sky  faded  to  rose- 
colour,  to  mauve ;  faintly  a  star  shone. 

For  a  long  time  now  nothing  had  stirred  in  the 
woodland  silence.  And,  as  the  star  glimmered  brighter 
through  the  branches,  she  shivered,  moved,  lay  listen 
ing,  then  crawled  a  little  way.  Every  sound  that  she 
made  was  a  terror  to  her,  every  heart  beat  seemed  to 
burst  the  silence. 

It  was  dusk  when  she  crept  out  at  last  into  a  stony 
road,  dragging  her  limbs ;  a  fine  mist  had  settled 
over  the  fields ;  the  air  grew  keener.  Somewhere  in  the 
darkness  cow-bells  tinkled ;  overhead,  through  the  damp 
sheet  of  fog,  the  veiled  stars  were  still  shining. 

Her  senses  were  not  perfectly  clear;  she  remem 
bered  falling  once  or  twice — remembered  seeing  the 
granite  posts  and  iron  gates  of  a  drive,  and  that  lighted 
windows  were  shining  dimly  somewhere  beyond.  And 
she  crept  toward  them,  still  stupid  with  exhaustion  and 
fright.  Then  she  was  aware  of  people,  dim  shapes  in 

425 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


the  darkness — of  a  dog  barking — of  voices,  a  quick 
movement  in  the  dusk — of  a  woman's  startled  exclama 
tion. 

Suddenly  she  heard  Neville's  voice — and  a  door 
opened,  flooding  her  with  yellow  light  where  she  stood 
swaying,  dazed,  deathly  pale. 

"  Louis  !  "  she  said. 

He  sprang  to  her,  caught  her  in  his  arms: 

"  Good  God!     What  is  the  matter?  " 

She  rested  against  him,  her  eyes  listlessly  watch 
ing  the  people  swiftly  gathering  in  the  dazzling 
light. 

"  Where  in  the  world — how  did  you  get  here ! — 
where  have  you  been — "  His  stammered  words  made 
him  incoherent  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  mud  and  dust 
on  her  torn  waist  and  skirt. 

Her  eyes  had  closed  a  moment ;  they  opened  now 
with  an  effort.  Once  more  she  looked  blindly  at  the 
people  clustering  around  her — recognised  his  sister  and 
Stephanie — divined  that  it  was  his  mother  who  stood 
gazing  at  her  in  pallid  consternation — summoned  every 
atom  of  her  courage  to  spare  him  the  insult  which  a 
man's  world  had  offered  to  her — found  strength  to  ig 
nore  it  so  that  no  shadow  of  the  outrage  should  fall 
through  her  upon  him  or  upon  those  nearest  to  him. 

"  I  lost  my  way,"  she  said.  Her  white  lips  tried 
to  smile;  she  strove  to  stand  upright,  alone;  caught 
mechanically  at  his  arm,  the  fixed  smile  still  stamped  on 
her  lips.  "  I  am  sorry  to — disturb  anybody.  ...  I 
was  lost — and  it  grew  dark.  ...  I  don't  know  my  way 
— very  well " 

She  turned,  conscious  of  some  one's  arm  support 
ing  her;  and  Stephanie  said,  in  a  low,  pitiful  voice: 

426 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Lean  back  on  me.     You  must  let  me  help  you  to 
the  house." 

"  Thank  you — I   won't   go   in.  .   .  .  If  I  could  rest 


*"  Dearest,'  he  whispered,  putting  his  arm  around  her,  'y°u  must 
come  with  us."' 

— a  moment — perhaps  somebody — Mr.  Neville — would 

help  me  to  get  home  again " 

"  Come  with  me,  Miss  West,"  whispered  Stephanie, 
"  I  want  you.  Will  you  come  to  my  room  with  me  for 
a  little  while?  " 

427 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


She  looked  into  Stephanie's  eyes,  turned  and  looked 
at  Neville. 

"  Dearest,"  he  whispered,  putting  his  arm  around 
her,  "  you  must  come  with  us." 

She  nodded  and  moved  forward,  steadily,  between 
them  both,  and  entered  the  house,  head  carried  high 
on  the  slender  neck,  but  her  face  was  colourless 
under  the  dark  masses  of  her  loosened  hair,  and  she 
swayed  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  reaching  out  blindly 
at  nothing — falling  forward. 

It  was  a  dead  weight  that  Neville  bore  into  Ste 
phanie's  room.  When  his  mother  turned  him  out  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him  he  stood  stupidly  about 
until  his  sister,  who  had  gone  into  the  room,  opened  the 
door  and  bade  him  telephone  for  Dr.  Ogilvy. 

"  What  has  happened  to  her?  "  he  asked,  as  though 
dazed. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  you'd  better  tell  Quinn  to 
bring  around  the  car  and  go  for  Dr.  Ogilvy  yourself." 

It  was  a  swift  rush  to  Dartford  through  the  night; 
bareheaded  he  bent  forward  beside  the  chauffeur,  teeth 
set,  every  nerve  tense  and  straining  as  though  his  very 
will  power  was  driving  the  machine  forward.  Then 
there  came  a  maddening  slowing  down  through  Dart- 
ford  streets,  a  nerve-racking  delay  until  Sam  Ogilvy 's 
giant  brother  had  stowed  away  himself  and  his  satchel 
in  the  tonneau;  then  slow  speed  to  the  town  limits;  a 
swift  hurling  forward  into  space  that  whirled  blackly 
around  them  as  the  great  acetylenes  split  the  darkness 
and  chaos  roared  in  their  ears. 

Under  the  lighted  windows  the  big  doctor  scrambled 
out  and  stamped  upstairs ;  and  Neville  waited  on  the 
landing. 

428 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


His  father  appeared  below,  looking  up  at  him,  and 
started  to  say  something;  but  apparently  changed  his 
mind  and  went  back  into  the  living  room,  rattling  his 
evening  paper  and  coughing. 

Cameron  passed  through  the  hallway,  looked  at  him, 
but  let  him  alone. 

After  a  while  the  door  opened  and  Lily  came  out. 

"  I'm  not  needed,"  she  said ;  "  your  mother  and  Ste 
phanie  have  taken  charge." 

"  Is  she  going  to  be  very  ill?  " 

"  Billy  Ogilvy  hasn't  said  anything  yet." 

"  Is  she  conscious  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  now." 

"  Has  she  said  anything  more?  " 

"  No." 

Lily  stood  silent  a  moment,  gazing  absently  down 
at  the  lighted  hall  below,  then  she  looked  at  her  brother 
as  though  she,  too,  were  about  to  speak,  but,  like  her 
father,  she  reconsidered  the  impulse,  and  went  away 
toward  the  nursery. 

Later  his  mother  opened  the  door  very  softly,  let 
herself  and  Stephanie  out,  and  stood  looking  at  him, 
one  finger  across  her  lips,  while  Stephanie  hurried  away 
downstairs. 

"  She's  asleep,  Louis.  Don't  raise  your  voice — " 
as  he  stepped  quickly  toward  her. 

"  Is  it  anything  serious?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  don't  know  what  Dr.  Ogilvy  thinks.  He  is 
coming  out  in  a  moment.  ..."  She  placed  one  hand 
on  her  son's  shoulder,  reddening  a  trifle.  "  I've  told 
William  Ogilvy  that  she  is  a  friend  of — the  family. 
He  may  have  heard  Sam  talking  about  her  when  he  was 
here  last.  So  I  thought  it  safer." 

429 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Neville  brought  a  chair  for  his  mother,  but  she 
shook  her  head,  cautioning  silence,  and  went  noiselessly 
downstairs. 


"'Well,  Louis,  what  do  you  know  about  this?' 


Half  an  hour  later  Dr.  Ogilvy  emerged,  saw  Nev 
ille — walked  up  and  inspected  him,  curiously. 

"Well,  Louis,  what  do  you  know  about  this?"  he 
asked,  buttoning  his  big  thick  rain-coat  to  the  throat. 

"  Absolutely  nothing,  Billy,  except  that  Miss 
430 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


West,  who  is  a  guest  of  the  Countess  d'Enver  at  Est- 
wich,  lost  her  way  in  the  woods.     How  is  she  now?  " 

"  All  right,"  said  the  doctor,  dryly. 

"  Is  she  conscious  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"Awake?" 

"  Yes.      She  won't  be— long." 

"Did  she  talk  to  you?" 

"  A  little." 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Fright.  And  I'm  wondering  whether  merely  be 
ing  lost  in  the  woods  is  enough  to  have  terrified  a  girl 
like  that?  Because,  apparently,  she  is  as  superb  a 
specimen  of  healthy  womanhood  as  this  world  manufac 
tures  once  in  a  hundred  years.  How  well  do  you  know 
her?" 

"  We  are  very  close  friends." 

"  H'm.  Did  you  suppose  she  was  the  kind  of 
woman  to  be  frightened  at  merely  being  lost  in  a  civil 
ised  country?  " 

"  No.  She  has  more  courage — of  all  kinds — than 
most  women." 

"  Because,"  said  the  big  doctor  thoughtfully, 
"  while  she  was  unconscious  it  took  me  ten  minutes  to 
pry  open  her  fingers  and  disengage  a  rather  heavy  dog- 
whip  from  her  clutch.  .  .  .  And  there  was  some  evi 
dences  of  blood  on  the  lash  and  on  the  bone  handle." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Neville,  amazed. 

The  doctor  shrugged :  "  I  don't  know  of  any  fierce 
and  vicious  dogs  between  here  and  Estwich,  either,"  he 
mused. 

"  No,  Cardemon  keeps  none.  And  its  mostly  his 
estate." 

431 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Oh  .  .  .  Any — h'm ! — vicious  men — in  his  em 
ployment  ?  " 

"My  God!"  whispered  Neville,  "what  do  you 
mean,  Billy?" 

"  Finger  imprints — black  and  blue — on  both  arms. 
Didn't  Miss  West  say  anything  that  might  enlighten 
you?  " 

"  No  .  .  .  She  only  said  she  had  been  lost.  .  .  . 
Wait  a  moment ;  I'm  trying  to  think  of  the  men  Carde- 
mon  employs — 

He  was  ashy  white  and  trembling,  and  the  doctor 
laid  a  steadying  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Hold  on,  Louis,"  he  said  sharply,  "  it  was  no 
worse  than  a  fright.  Do  you  understand?  .  .  .  And 
do  you  understand,  too,  that  an  innocent  and  sensi 
tive  and  modest  girl  would  rather  die  than  have 
such  a  thing  made  public  through  your  well-meant 
activity?  So  there's  nothing  for  anybody  to  do — 
yet." 

Neville  could  scarcely  speak. 

"  Do  you  mean — she  was  attacked  by  some — man  !  " 

"  It  looks  like  it.     And — you'd  better  keep  it  from 
your  family — because  she  did.      She's  game  to  the  core 
—that  little  girl." 

"  But  she — she'll  tell  me !  "  stammered  Neville — 
"  she's  got  to  tell  me " 

"  She  won't  if  she  can  help  it.  Would  it  aid  her 
any  if  you  found  out  who  it  was  and  killed  him? — ran 
for  a  gun  and  did  a  little  murdering  some  pleasant 
morning — just  to  show  your  chivalrous  consideration 
and  devotion  to  her  ?  " 

"  Are  you  asking  me  to  let  a  beast  like  that  go  un 
punished  ?  "  demanded  Neville  violently. 

432 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


66  Oh,  use  your  brains,  Louis.  He  frightened  her 
and  she  slashed  him  well  for  it.  And,  womanlike — 
after  there  was  no  more  danger  and  no  more  necessity 
for  pluck — she  got  scared  and  ran ;  and  the  farther  she 
ran  the  more  scared  she  became.  Look  here,  Louis ; 
look  at  me — squarely."  He  laid  both  ponderous  hands 
on  Neville's  shoulders : 

"  Sam  has  told  me  all  about  you  and  Miss  West — 
and  I  can  guess  how  your  family  takes  it.  Can't  you 
see  why  she  had  the  pluck  to  remain  silent  about  this 
thing?  It  was  because  she  saw  in  it  the  brutal  con 
tempt  of  the  world  toward  a  woman  who  stood  in  that 
world  alone,  unsupported,  unprotected.  And  she  would 
not  have  you  and  your  family  know  how  lightly  the 
world  held  the  woman  whom  you  love  and  wish  to  marry 
— not  for  her  own  sake  alone — but  for  the  sake  of  your 
family's  pride — and  yours." 

His  hands  dropped  from  Neville's  shoulders;  he 
stood  considering  him  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  I've  told  you  because,  if  you  are  the  man  I  think 
you  are,  you  ought  to  know  the  facts.  Forcing  her  to 
the  humiliation  of  telling  you  will  not  help  matters ; 
filling  this  pup  full  of  lead  means  an  agony  of  endless 
publicity  and  shame  for  her,  for  your  family,  and  for 
you.  .  .  .  He'll  never  dare  remain  in  the  same  county 
with  her  after  this.  He's  probably  skedaddled  by  this 
time  anyway."  .  .  .  Dr.  Ogilvy  looked  narrowly  at 
Neville.  "  Are  you  pretty  sane,  now?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  realise  that  gun-play  is  no  good  in  this  mat 
ter?" 

"  Y-yes." 

"  And  you  really  are  going  to  consider  Miss  West 
433 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


before  your  own  natural  but  very  primitive  desire  to 
do  murder?  " 

Neville  nodded. 

"  Knowing,"  added  the  doctor,  "  that  the  unspeak 
able  cur  who  affronted  her  has  probably  taken  to  his 
heels?" 

Neville,  pale  and  silent,  raised  his  eyes : 

"  Do  you  suspect  anybody  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  doctor  carelessly ; — "  I'll 
just  step  over  to  the  telephone  and  make  an  inquiry 
of  Penrhyn  Cardemon — 

He  walked  to  the  end  of  the  big  hall,  unhooked  the 
receiver,  asked  for  Cardemon's  house,  got  it. 

Neville  heard  him  say: 

"This  is  Dr.  Ogilvy.  Is  that  you,  Gelett?  Isn't 
your  master  at  home?  " 

"  What?     Had  to  catch  a  train?  " 
"Oh!  A  sudden  matter  of  business." 

"  I  sec.  He's  had  a  cable  calling  him  to  London. 
How  long  will  he  be  away,  Gelett?  " 

"  Oh,  I  see.  You  don't  know.  Very  well.  I  only 
called  up  because  I  understood  he  required  medical  at 
tention." 

"  Yes — I  understood  he'd  been  hurt  about  the  head 
and  face,  but  I  didn't  know  he  had  received  such  a — 
battering." 


434 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  You  say  that  his  horse  threw  him  in  the  big  beech- 
woods  ?  Was  he  really  very  much  cut  up  ?  " 

"  Pretty  roughly  handled,  eh !  All  right.  When 
you  communicate  with  him  tell  him  that  Dr.  Ogilvy  and 
Mr.  Neville,  Jr.,  were  greatly  interested  to  know  how 
badly  he  was  injured.  Do  you  understand?  Well, 
don't  forget.  And  you  may  tell  him,  Gelett,  that 
as  long  as  the  scars  remain,  he'd  better  remain,  too. 
Get  it  straight,  Gelett;  tell  him  it's  my  medical  advice 
to  remain  away  as  long  as  he  can — and  a  little  longer. 
This  climate  is  no  good  for  him.  Good-bye." 

He  turned  from  the  telephone  and  sauntered  toward 
Neville,  who  regarded  him  with  a  fixed  stare. 

"  You  see,"  he  remarked  with  a  shrug ;  and  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  slightly  twisted  scarf  pin — a  big 
horse-shoe  set  with  sapphires  and  diamonds — the  kind 
of  pin  some  kinds  of  men  use  in  their  riding-stocks. 

"  I've  often  seen  him  wearing  it,"  he  said  care 
lessly.  "  Curious  how  it  could  have  become  twisted 
and  entangled  in  Miss  West's  lace  waist." 

He  held  out  the  pin,  turning  it  over  reflectively  as 
the  facets  of  the  gems  caught  and  flashed  back  the 
light  from  the  hall  brackets. 

"  I'll  drop  it  into  the  poor-box  I  think,"  he  mused. 
"  Cardemon  will  remain  away  so  long  that  this  pin 
will  be  entirely  out  of  fashion  when  he  returns." 

After  a  few  moments  Neville  drew  a  long,  deep 
breath,  and  his  clenched  hands  relaxed. 

"  Sure,"  commented  the  burly  doctor.  "  That's 
right — feeling  better — rush  of  common  sense  to  the 
head.  Well,  I've  got  to  go." 

"  Will  you  be  here  in  the  morning?  " 
435 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"I  think  not.  She'll  be  all  right.  If  she  isn't, 
send  over  for  me." 

"  You  don't  think  that  the  shock — the  exhaus 
tion " 

"  Naw,"  said  the  big  doctor  with  good-natured 
contempt ;  "  she's  going  to  be  all  right  in  the  morning. 
.  .  .  She's  a  lovely  creature,  isn't  she?  Sam  said  so. 
Sam  has  an  eye  for  beauty.  But,  by  jinks!  I  was 
scarcely  prepared  for  such  physical  perfection — h'm ! 
• — or  such  fine  and  nice  discrimination — or  for  such 
pluck.  .  .  .  God  knows  what  people's  families  want 
these  days.  If  the  world  mated  properly  our  best 
families  would  be  extinct  in  another  generation.  .  .  . 
You're  one  of  'em;  you'd  better  get  diligent  before 
the  world  wakes  up  with  a  rush  of  common  sense  to 
its  doddering  old  head."  He  gave  him  both  hands, 
warmly,  cordially :  "  Good-bye,  Louis." 

Neville  said :  "  I  want  you  to  know  that  I'd  marry 
her  to-morrow  if  she'd  have  me,  Billy." 

The  doctor  lifted  his  eyebrows. 

"Won't  she?" 

"  No." 

• 

"  Then  probably  you're  not  up  to  sample.  A  girl 
like  that  is  no  fool.  She'll  require  a  lot  in  a  man. 
However,  you're  young ;  and  you  may  make  good  yet." 

"  You  don't  understand,  Billy " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  She  wears  a  dinky  miniature  of  you 
against  her  naked  heart.  Yes,  I  guess  I  understand. 
.  .  .  And  I  guess  she's  that  kind  of  a  girl — all  unsel 
fishness  and  innocence,  and  generous  perversity  and 
• — quixotic  love.  .  .  .  It's  too  bad,  Louis.  I  guess 
you're  up  against  it  for  fair." 

He  surveyed  the  younger  man,  shook  his  head: 
436 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  They  can't  stand  for  her,  can  they?  " 

"  No." 

"  And  she  won't  stand  for  snaking  you  out  of  the 
fold.  That's  it,  I  fancy?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Too  bad — too  bad.  She's  a  fine  woman — a  very 
fine  little  woman.  That's  the  kind  a  man  ought  to  ' 
marry  and  bother  the  Almighty  with  gratitude  all  the 
rest  of  his  life.  Well — well !  Your  family  is  your  own 
after  all;  and  I  live  in  Dartford,  thank  God! — not  on 
lower  Fifth  Avenue  or  Tenth  Street." 

He  started  away,  halted,  came  back: 

"  Couldn't  you  run  away  with  her? "  he  asked 
anxiously. 

"  She  won't,"  replied  Neville,  unsmiling. 

"  I  mean,  violently.  But  she's  too  heavy  to  carry, 
I  fancy — and  I'll  bet  she's  got  the  vigour  of  little  old 
Diana  herself.  No — you  couldn't  do  the  Sabine  act 
with  her — only  a  club  and  the  cave-man's  gentle  per 
suasion  would  help  either  of  you.  .  .  .  Well — well,  if 
they  see  her  at  breakfast  it  may  help  some.  You  know 
a  woman  makes  or  breaks  herself  at  breakfast.  That's 
why  the  majority  of  woman  take  it  abed.  I'm  serious, 
Louis;  no  man  can  stand  'em — the  majority." 

Once  more  he  started  away,  hesitated,  came  back. 

"  Who's  this  Countess  that  Sam  is  so  crazy  about?  " 

"  A  sweet  little  woman,  well-bred,  and  very  genuine 


"  Never  heard  of  her  in  Dartford,"  muttered  the 
doctor. 

Neville  laughed  grimly: 

"  Billy,  Tenth  Street  and  lower  Fifth  Avenue  and 
Greenwich  Village  and  Chelsea  and  Stuyvesant  Square 

437 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


— and  Syringa  Avenue,  Dartford,  are  all  about  alike. 
Bird  Centre  is  just  as  stupid  as  Manhattan;  and  there 
never  was  and  never  will  be  a  republic  and  a  democracy 
in  any  country  on  the  face  of  this  snob-cursed  globe." 

The  doctor,  very  red,  stared  at  him. 

"By  jinks!"  he  said,  "I  guess  I'm  one  after  all. 
Now,  who  in  hell  would  suspect  that ! — af ter  all  the  ad 
vice  I've  given  you !  " 

"  It  was  another  fellow's  family,  that's  all,"  said 
Neville  wearily.  "  Theories  work  or  they  don't ;  only 
few  care  to  try  them  on  themselves  or  their  own  fam 
ilies — particularly  when  they  devoutly  believe  in  them." 

"  Gad !  That's  a  stinger !  You've  got  me  going 
all  right,"  said  the  doctor,  wincing,  "  and  you're  per 
fectly  correct.  Here  I've  been  practically  counselling 
you  to  marry  where  your  inclination  led  you,  and  let  the 
rest  go  to  blazes ;  and  when  it's  a  question  of  Sam  doing 
something  similar,  I  retire  hastily  across  the  river  and 
establish  a  residence  in  Missouri.  What  a  rotten,  cus 
tom-ridden  bunch  of  snippy-snappy-snobbery  we  are 
after  all !  .  .  .  All  the  same — who  is  the  Countess  ?  " 

Neville  didn't  know  much  about  her. 

"  Sam's  such  an  ass,"  said  his  brother,  "  and  it  isn't 
all  snobbery  on  my  part." 

"  The  safest  thing  to  do,"  said  Neville  bitterly,  "  is 
to  let  a  man  in  love  alone." 

"  Right.  Foolish  —  damned  foolish  —  but  right ! 
There  is  no  greater  ass  than  a  wise  one.  Those  who 
don't  know  anything  at  all  are  the  better  asses — and 
the  happier." 

And  he  went  away  down  the  stairs,  muttering  and 
gesticulating. 

Mrs.  Neville  came  to  the  door  as  he  opened  it  to  go 
438 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


out.  They  talked  in  low  voices  for  a  few  moments, 
then  the  doctor  went  out  and  Mrs.  Neville  called  to  Ste 
phanie. 

The  girl  came  from  the  lighted  drawing-room,  and, 
together,  the  two  women  ascended  the  stairs. 

Stephanie  smiled  and  nodded  to  Neville,  then  con 
tinued  on  along  the  hall;  but  his  mother  stopped  to 
speak  to  him. 

"  Go  and  sit  with  your  father  a  little  while,"  she  said. 
"  And  don't  be  impatient  with  him,  dear.  He  is  an  old 
man — a  product  of  a  different  age  and  a  simpler  civil 
isation — perhaps  a  narrower  one.  Be  patient  and  gen 
tle  with  him.  He  really  is  fond  of  you  and  proud  of 
you." 

"  Very  well,  mother.  ...  Is  anybody  going  to  sit 
up  with  Valerie  ?  " 

"  Stephanie  insists  on  sleeping  on  the  couch  at  the 
foot  of  her  bed.  I  offered  to  sit  up  but  she  wouldn't 
let  me.  .  .  .  You'll  see  that  I'm  called  if  anything  hap 
pens,  won't  you?  " 

"  Yes.     Good-night,  mother." 

He  kissed  her,  stood  a  moment  looking  at  the  closed 
door  behind  which  lay  Valerie — tried  to  realise  that  she 
did  lie  there  under  the  same  roof-tree  that  sheltered 
father,  mother,  and  sister — then,  with  a  strange  thrill 
in  his  heart,  he  went  downstairs. 

Cameron  passed  him,  on  his  upward  way  to  slum- 
berland. 

"  How's  Miss  West?  "  he  asked  cheerfully. 

"  Asleep,  I  think.  Billy  Ogilvy  expects  her  to  be 
all  right  in  the  morning." 

"  Good  work !  Glad  of  it.  Tell  your  governor ; 
he's  been  inquiring." 

439 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Has  he  ?  "  said  Neville,  with  another  thrill,  and 
went  into  the  living  room  where  his  father  sat  alone  be 
fore  the  whitening  ashes  of  the  fire. 

"  Well,  father !  "  he  said,  smiling. 

The  older  man  turned  his  head,  then  turned  it  away 
as  his  son  drew  up  a  chair  and  laid  a  stick  across  the 
andirons. 

"  It's  turned  a  little  chilly,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  known  of  many  a  frost  in  May,"  said  his 
father. 

There  was  a  silence ;  then  his  father  slowly  turned 
and  gazed  at  him. 

"  How  is— Miss  West?  "  he  asked  stiffly. 

"  Billy  Ogilvy  says  she  will  be  all  right  to-morrow, 
father." 

"  Was  she  injured  by  her  unfortunate  experience?  " 

"  A  little  briar-torn,  I'm  afraid.  Those  big  beech 
woods  are  rather  a  puzzle  to  anybody  who  is  not  famil 
iar  with  the  country.  No  wonder  she  became  fright 
ened  when  it  grew  dark." 

"  It  was — very  distressing,"  nodded  his  father. 

They  remained  silent  again  until  Mr.  Neville  rose, 
took  off  his  spectacles,  laid  aside  The  Evening  Post, 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-night,  my  son." 

"  Good-night,  father." 

"  Yes — yes — good-night — good-night — to  many, 
many  things,  my  son ;  old-fashioned  things  of  no  value 
any  more — of  no  use  to  me,  or  you,  or  anybody  any 
more." 

He  retained  his  son's  hand  in  his,  peering  at  him, 
dim-eyed,  without  his  spectacles : 

"  The  old  order  passes — the  old  ideas,  the  old  be- 
440 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


liefs — and  the  old  people  who  cherished  them — who 
know  no  others,  needed  no  others.  .  .  .  Good-night,  my 
son." 

But  he  made  no  movement  to  leave,  and  still  held 
to  his  son's  hand: 

"  I've  tried  to  live  as  blamelessly  as  my  father  lived. 
Louis — and  as  God  has  given  me  to  see  my  way  through 
life.  .  .  .  But — the  times  change  so — change  so.  The 
times  are  perplexing ;  life  grows  noisier,  and  stranger 
and  more  complex  and  more  violent  every  day  around 
us — and  the  old  require  repose,  Louis.  Try  to  under 
stand  that." 

«  Yes,  father," 

The  other  looked  at  him,  wearily : 

"  Your  mother  seems  to  think  that  your  happiness 
in  life  depends  on — what  we  say  to  you — this  evening. 
Stephanie  seems  to  believe  it,  too.  .  .  .  Lily  says  very 
little.  .  .  .  And  so  do  I,  Louis — very  little  .  .  .  only 
enough  to — to  wish  you — happiness.  And  so — good 
night." 


15 


CHAPTER    XV 

IT  was  barely  daylight  when  Valerie  awoke.  She 
lay  perfectly  still,  listening,  remembering,  her  eyes 
wandering  over  the  dim,  unfamiliar  room.  Through 
thin  silk  curtains  a  little  of  the  early  light  penetrated; 
she  heard  the  ceaseless  chorus  of  the  birds,  cocks  crow 
ing  near  and  far  away,  the  whimpering  flight  of  pig 
eons  around  the  eaves  above  her  windows,  and  their  low, 
incessant  cooing. 

Suddenly,  through  the  foot-bars  of  her  bed  she 
caught  sight  of  Stephanie  lying  sound  asleep  on  the 
couch,  and  she  sat  up — swiftly,  noiselessly,  staring  at 
her  out  of  wide  eyes  from  which  the  last  trace  of 
dreams  had  fled. 

For  a  long  while  she  remained  upright  among  her 
pillows,  looking  at  Stephanie,  remembering,  consider 
ing  ;  then,  with  decision,  she  slipped  silently  out  of  bed, 
and  went  about  her  dressing  without  a  sound. 

In  the  connecting  bath-room  and  dressing-room  be 
yond  she  found  her  clothing  gathered  in  a  heap,  evi 
dently  to  be  taken  away  and  freshened  early  in  the  morn 
ing.  She  dared  not  brush  it  for  fear  of  awakening  Ste 
phanie  ;  her  toilet  was  swift  and  simple ;  she  clothed 
herself  rapidly  and  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  her  rub 
ber-soled  walking  shoes  making  no  noise. 

Below,  the  side-lights  of  the  door  made  unbolting  and 
unchaining  easy ;  it  would  be  hours  yet  before  even 

442 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


the  servants  were  stirring,  but  she  moved  with  infinite 
caution,  stepping  out  onto  the  veranda  and  closing  the 
door  behind  her  without  making  the  slightest  noise. 

Dew  splashed  her  shoes  as  she  hastened  across  the 
lawn.  She  knew  the  Estwich  road  even  if  there  had 
been  no  finger-posts  to  point  out  her  way. 

The  sun  had  not  yet  risen;  woods  were  foggy;  the 
cattle  in  the  fields  stood  to  their  shadowy  flanks  in  the 
thin  mist ;  and  everywhere,  like  the  cheery  rush  of  a 
stream,  sounded  the  torrent  of  bird-music  from  bramble 
patch  and  alder-swale,  from  hedge  and  orchard  and 
young  woodland. 

It  was  not  until  she  had  arrived  in  sight  of  Estwich 
Corners  that  she  met  the  first  farmer  afield ;  and,  as  she 
turned  into  the  drive,  the  edge  of  the  sun  sent  a  blind 
ing  search-light  over  a  dew-soaked  world,  and  her  long 
shadow  sprang  into  view,  streaming  away  behind  her 
across  the  lawn. 

To  her  surprise  the  front  door  was  open  and  a 
harnessed  buck-board  stood  at  the  gate ;  and  suddenly 
she  recollected  with  a  hot  blush  that  the  household  must 
have  been  amazed  and  probably  alarmed  by  her  non- 
appearance  the  night  before. 

Helene's  farmer  and  her  maid  came  out  as  she  en 
tered  the  front  walk,  and,  seeing  her,  stood  round-eyed 
and  gaping. 

"  I  got  lost  and  remained  over  night  at  Mrs.  Col- 
lis's,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  Now,  I'd  like  a  bath  if  you 
please  and  some  fresh  clothing  for  travelling,  because 
I  am  obliged  to  go  to  the  city,  and  I  wish  to  catch  the 
earliest  train. 

When  at  last  it  was  plain  to  them  that  she  was 
alive  and  well,  Helene's  maid,  still  trembling,  hastened 

443 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


to  draw  a  bath  for  her  and  pack  the  small  steamer 
trunk;  and  the  farmer  sat  down  on  the  porch  and 
waited,  still  more  or  less  shaken  by  the  anxiety  which 
had  sent  him  pottering  about  the  neighbouring  woods 
and  fields  with  a  lantern  the  night  before,  and  had 
aroused  him  to  renewed  endeavour  before  sunrise. 

Bathed  and  freshly  clothed,  Valerie  hastened  into 
the  pretty  library,  seated  herself  at  the  desk,  pushed  up 
her  veil,  and  wrote  rapidly : 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  COLLIS  :  My  gratitude  to  you,  to 
Mrs.  Neville,  and  to  Miss  Swift  is  none  the  less  real 
because  I  am  acknowledging  it  by  letter.  Besides,  I 
am  very  certain  that  you  would  prefer  it  so. 

"  You  and  your  family  have  been  kindness  itself  to 
me  in  my  awkward  and  painful  dilemma;  you  have 
sheltered  me  and  provided  medical  attendance;  and  I 
am  deeply  in  your  debt. 

"  Had  matters  been  different  I  need  scarcely  say 
that  it  would  have  been  a  pleasure  for  me  to  personally 
acknowledge  to  you  and  your  family  my  grateful  ap 
preciation. 

"  But  I  am  very  sure  that  I  could  show  my  gratitude 
in  no  more  welcome  manner  than  by  doing  what  I  have 
done  this  morning  and  by  expressing  that  obligation  to 
vou  in  writing. 

"  Before  I  close  may  I  ask  you  to  believe  that  I 
had  no  intention  of  seeking  shelter  at  your  house? 
Until  I  heard  Mr.  Neville's  voice  I  had  no  idea  where 
I  was.  I  merely  made  my  way  toward  the  first  lighted 
windows  that  I  saw,  never  dreaming  that  I  had  come  to 
Ashuelyn. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  my  stupid  misadventure  has 
444 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


caused  you  and  your  family  so  much  trouble  and  annoy 
ance.  I  feel  it  very  keenly — more  keenly  because  of  your 
kindness  in  making  the  best  of  what  must  have  been  to 
you  and  your  family  a  most  disagreeable  episode. 

"  May  I  venture  to  express  to  you  my  thanks  to 
Miss  Swift  who  so  generously  remained  in  my  room  last 
night?  I  am  deeply  sensible  of  her  sweetness  to  an 
unwelcome  stranger — and  of  Mrs.  Neville's  gentle  man 
ner  toward  one  who,  I  am  afraid,  has  caused  her  much 
anxiety. 

"  To  the  very  amiable  physician  who  did  so  much 
to  calm  a  foolish  and  inexcusable  nervousness,  I  am 
genuinely  grateful.  If  I  knew  his  name  and  address  I 
would  write  and  properly  acknowledge  my  debt. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more  before  I  close :  I  am  sorry 
that  I  wrote  you  so  ungraciously  after  receiving  your 
last  letter.  It  would  have  been  perfectly  easy  to  have 
thanked  you  courteously,  whatever  private  opinion  I 
may  have  entertained  concerning  a  matter  about  which 
there  may  be  more  than  my  own  opinion. 

"  And  now,  please  believe  that  I  will  never  again 
voluntarily  cause  you  and  your  family  the  slightest  un 
easiness  or  inconvenience;  and  believe  me,  too,  if  you 
care  to,  Very  gratefully  yours, 

"VALERIE  WEST." 

She  directed  and  sealed  the  letter,  then  drew  to 
ward  her  another  sheet  of  paper: 

"  DEAREST  :  I  could  die  of  shame  for  having  blun 
dered  into  your  family  circle.  I  dare  not  even  consider 
what  they  must  think  of  me  now.  You  will  know  how 
innocently  and  unsuspiciously  it  was  done — how  utterly 

445 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


impossible  it  would  have  been  for  me  to  have  voluntarily 
committed  such  an  act  even  in  the  last  extremity.  But 
what  they  will  think  of  my  appearance  at  your  door 
last  night,  I  don't  know  and  I  dare  not  surmise.  I 
have  done  all  I  could;  I  have  rid  them  of  me,  and  I 
have  written  to  your  sister  to  thank  her  and  your  family 
for  their  very  real  kindness  to  the  last  woman  in  the 
world  whom  they  would  have  willingly  chosen  to  receive 
and  entertain. 

"  Dear,  I  didn't  know  I  had  nerves ;  but  this  ex 
perience  seems  to  have  developed  them.  I  am  perfectly 
well,  but  the  country  here  has  become  distasteful  to 
me,  and  I  am  going  to  town  in  a  few  minutes.  I  want 
to  get  away — I  want  to  go  back  to  my  work — earn 
my  living  again — live  in  blessed  self-respect  where,  as 
a  worker,  I  have  the  right  to  live. 

"  Dearest,  I  am  sorry  about  not  meeting  you  at 
the  station  and  going  back  to  town  with  you.  But  I 
simply  cannot  endure  staying  here  after  last  night.  I 
suppose  it  is  weak  and  silly  of  me,  but  I  feel  now  as 
though  your  family  would  never  be  perfectly  tranquil 
again  until  I  am  out  of  their  immediate  vicinity.  I  can 
not  convey  to  you  or  to  them  how  sorry  and  how  dis 
tressed  I  am  that  this  thing  has  occurred. 

"  But  I  can,  perhaps,  make  you  understand  that  I 
love  you,  dearly — love  you  enough  to  give  myself  to 
you — love  you  enough  to  give  you  up  forever. 

"  And  it  is  to  consider  what  is  best,  what  to  do,  that 
I  am  going  away  quietly  somewhere  by  myself  to  think 
it  all  out  once  more — and  to  come  to  a  final  decision 
before  the  first  of  June. 

"  I  want  to  search  my  heart,  and  let  God  search  it 
for  any  secret  selfishness  and  unworthiness  that  might 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


sway  me  in  my  choice — any  overmastering  love  for  you 
that  might  blind  me.  When  I  know  myself,  you  shall 
know  me.  Until  then  I  shall  not  write  you;  but  some 
time  before  the  first  of  June — or  on  that  day,  you  shall 
know  and  I  shall  know  how  I  have  decided  wherein  I 
may  best  serve  you — whether  by  giving  or  withholding 
— whether  by  accepting  or  refusing  forever  all  that  I 
care  for  in  the  world — you,  Louis,  and  the  love  you  have 
given  me. 

"  VALERIE  WEST." 

She  sealed  and  directed  this,  laid  it  beside  the  other, 
and  summoned  the  maid: 

"  Have  these  sent  at  once  to  Ashuelyn,"  she  said ; 
"let  Jimmy  go  on  his  bicycle.  Are  my  things  ready? 
Is  the  buck-board  still  there?  Then  I  will  leave  a  note 
for  the  Countess." 

And  she  scribbled  hastily : 

"  HZLENE  DEAR,  :  I've  got  to  go  to  town  in  a  hurry 
on  matters  of  importance,  and  so  I  am  taking  a  very 
unceremonious  leave  of  you  and  of  your  delightful 
house. 

"  They'll  tell  you  I  got  lost  in  the  woods  last  night, 
and  I  did.  It  was  too  stupid  of  me ;  but  no  harm  came 
of  it — only  a  little  embarrassment  in  accepting  a  night's 
shelter  at  Ashuelyn  among  people  who  were  everything 
that  was  hospitable,  but  who  must  have  been  anything 
but  delighted  to  entertain  me. 

"In  a  few  weeks  I  shall  write  you  again.  I  have 
not  exactly  decided  what  to  do  this  summer.  I  may  go 
abroad  for  a  vacation  as  I  have  saved  enough  to  do  so 
in  an  economical  manner ;  and  I  should  love  to  see  the 

447 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


French  cathedrals.     Perhaps,  if  I  so  decide,  you  might 
be  persuaded  to  go  with  me. 

"  However,  it  is  too  early  to  plan  yet.  A  matter 
of  utmost  importance  is  going  to  keep  me  busy  and 
secluded  for  a  week  or  so.  After  that  I  shall  come  to 
some  definite  decision ;  and  then  you  shall  hear  from  me. 

"In  the  meanwhile — I  have  enjoyed  Estwich  and 
you  immensely.  It  was  kind  and  dear  of  you  to  ask 
me.  I  shall  never  forget  my  visit. 

"  Good-bye,  Helene  dear. 

"  VALEEIE  WEST." 

This  note  she  left  on  Helene's  dresser,  then  ran 
downstairs  and  sprang  into  the  buck-board. 

They  had  plenty  of  time  to  catch  the  train ;  and 
on  the  train  she  had  plenty  of  leisure  for  reflection.  But 
she  could  not  seem  to  think;  a  confused  sensation  of 
excitement  invaded  her  mind  and  she  sat  in  her  velvet 
armed  chair  alternately  shivering  with  the  memory  of 
Cardemon's  villainy,  and  quivering  under  the  recollec 
tion  of  her  night  at  Ashuelyn. 

Rita  was  not  at  home  when  she  came  into  their  little 
apartment.  The  parrot  greeted  her,  flapping  his  bril 
liant  wings  and  shrieking  from  his  perch;  the  goldfish 
goggled  his  eyes  and  swam  'round  and  'round.  She 
stood  still  in  the  centre  of  her  room  looking  vacantly 
about  her.  An  immense,  overwhelming  sense  of  loneliness 
came  over  her;  she  turned  as  the  rush  of  tears  blinded 
her  and  flung  herself  full  length  among  the  pillows  of 
her  bed. 

Her  first  two  or  three  days  in  town  were  busy  ones ; 
she  had  her  accounts  to  balance,  her  inventories  to  take, 

448 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


her  mending  to  do,  her  modest  summer  wardrobe  to 
acquire,  letters  to  write  and  to  answer,  engagements  to 
make,  to  fulfill,  to  postpone;  friends  to  call  on  and  to 


"The  parrot  greeted  her,  flapping  his  brilliant  wings  and  shrieking 
from  his  perch." 

receive,  duties  in  regard  to  the  New  Idea  Home  to  at 
tend  to. 

Also,  the  morning  after  her  arrival  came  a  special 
delivery  letter  from  Neville : 

449 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  It  was  a  mistake  to  go,  dear,  because,  although 
you  could  not  have  known  it,  matters  have  changed  most 
happily  for  us.  You  were  a  welcome  guest  in  my  sister's 
house ;  you  would  have  been  asked  to  remain  after  your 
visit  at  Estwich  was  over.  My  family's  sentiments  are 
changing — have  changed.  It  requires  only  you  your 
self  to  convince  them.  I  wish  you  had  remained,  al 
though  your  going  so  quietly  commanded  the  respect 
of  everybody.  They  all  are  very  silent  about  it  and 
about  you,  yet  I  can  see  that  they  have  been  affected 
most  favourably  by  their  brief  glimpse  of  you. 

"  As  for  your  wishing  to  remain  undisturbed  for  a 
few  days,  I  can  see  no  reason  for  it  now,  dear,  but  of 
course  I  shall  respect  your  wishes. 

"  Only  send  me  a  line  to  say  that  the  month  of  June 
will  mean  our  marriage.  Say  it,  dear,  because  there 
is  now  no  reason  to  refuse." 

To  which  she  answered: 

"  Dearest  among  all  men,  no  family's  sentiments 
change  over  night.  Your  people  were  nice  to  me  and 
I  have  thanked  them.  But,  dear,  I  am  not  likely  to  de 
lude  myself  in  regard  to  their  real  sentiments  concern 
ing  me.  Too  deeply  ingrained,  too  basic,  too  essentially 
part  of  themselves  and  of  their  lives  are  the  creeds, 
codes,  and  beliefs  which,  in  spite  of  themselves,  must 
continue  to  govern  their  real  attitude  toward  such  a 
girl  as  I  am. 

"  It  is  dear  of  you  to  wish  for  us  what  cannot  be ; 
it  is  kind  of  them  to  accept  your  wish  with  resignation. 

"  But  I  have  told  you  many  times,  my  darling,  that 
I  would  not  accept  a  status  as  your  wife  at  any  cost  to 
you  or  to  them — and  I  can  read  between  the  lines,  even 

450 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


if  I  did  not  know,  what  it  would  cost  them  and  you. 
And  so,  very  gently,  and  with  a  heart  full  of  gratitude 
and  love  for  you,  I  must  decline  this  public  honour. 

"  But,  God  willing,  I  shall  not  decline  a  lifetime 
devoted  to  you  when  you  are  not  with  them.  That  is 
all  I  can  hope  for ;  and  it  is  so  much  more  than  I  ever 
dreamed  of  having,  that,  to  have  you  at  all — even  for 
a  part  of  the  time — even  for  a  part  of  my  life,  is  enough. 
And  I  say  it  humbly,  reverently,  without  ignoble  envy 
or  discontent  for  what  might  have  been  had  you  and  I 
been  born  to  the  same  life  amid  the  same  surroudings. 

"  Don't  write  to  me  again,  dear,  until  I  have  de 
termined  what  is  best  for  us.  Before  the  first  day  of 
summer,  or  on  that  day,  you  will  know.  And  so  will  I. 

"  My  life  is  such  a  little  thing  compared  to  yours — 
of  such  slight  value  and  worth  that  sometimes  I  think 
I  am  considering  matters  too  deeply — that  if  I  simply 
fling  it  in  the  scales  the  balance  will  scarcely  be  altered 
— the  splendid,  even  tenor  of  your  career  will  scarcely 
swerve  a  shade. 

"  Yet  my  life  is  already  something  to  you ;  and  be 
sides  it  is  all  I  have  to  give  you ;  and  if  I  am  to  give  it — 
if  it  is  adding  an  iota  to  your  happiness  for  me  to  give 
it — then  I  must  truly  treat  it  with  respect,  and  deeply 
consider  the  gift,  and  the  giving,  and  if  it  shall  be  better 
for  you  to  possess  it,  or  better  that  you  never  shall. 

"  And  whatever  I  do  with  myself,  my  darling,  be 
certain  that  it  is  of  you  I  am  thinking  and  not  of  the 
girl  who  loves  you. 

"  V." 

By  degrees  she  cleared  up  her  accounts  <ind  set  )ier 
small  house  in  order. 

451 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Rita  seemed  to  divine  that  something  radical  was 
in  progress  of  evolution,  but  Valerie  offered  no  con 
fidence,  and  the  girl,  already  deeply  worried  over 
John  Burleson's  condition,  had  not  spirit  enough  to 
meddle. 

66  Sam  Ogilvy's  brother  is  a  wonder  on  tubercular 
cases,"  she  said  to  Valerie,  "  and  I'm  doing  my  best  to 
get  John  to  go  and  see  him  at  Dartford." 

"Won't  he?" 

"  He  says  he  will,  but  you  know  how  horridly  un 
truthful  men  are.  And  now  John  is  slopping  about 
with  his  wet  clay  again  as  usual — an  order  for  a  tomb 
in  Greenwood — poor  boy,  he  had  better  think  how  best 
to  keep  away  from  tombs." 

"  Why,  Rita !  "  said  Valerie,  shocked. 

"  I  can't  help  it ;  I'm  really  frightened,  dear.  And 
you  know  well  enough  I'm  no  flighty  alarmist.  Besides, 
somehow,  I  feel  certain  that  Sam's  brother  would  tell 
John  to  go  to  Arizona  " — she  pointed  piteously  to  her 
trunk :  "  It's  packed ;  it  has  been  packed  for  weeks.  I'm 
all  ready  to  go  with  him.  Why  can't  a  man  mould 
clay  and  chip  marble  and  cast  bronze  as  well  in  Arizona 
as  in  this  vile  pest-hole?  " 

Valerie  sat  with  folded  hands  looking  at  her. 

"  How   do  you  think  you  could  stand  that  deso- 
flation?" 

"Arizona?" 

"  Yes." 

"  There  is  another  desolation  I  dread  more." 

"  Do  you  really  love  him  so  ?  " 

Rita  slowly  turned  from  the  window  and  looked  at 
her. 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

452 


.- 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Does  he  know  it,  Rita?" 

"  No,  dear." 

"  Do  you  think— if  he  did " 

"  No.  ...  How  could  it  be — after  what  has  hap 
pened  to  me  ?  " 

"You  would  tell  him?" 

"  Of  course.  I  sometimes  wonder  whether  he  has 
not  already  heard — something — from  that  beast — 

"  Does  John  know  him  ?  " 

"  He  has  done  two  fountains  for  his  place  at  El 
Nauar.  He  had  several  other  things  in  view — "  she 
shrugged — "  but  The  Mohave  sailed  suddenly  with  its 
owner  for  a  voyage  around  the  world — so  John  was 
told;— and — Valerie,  it's  the  first  clear  breath  of  relief 
I've  drawn  since  Penrhyn  Cardemon  entered  John's 
studio." 

"  I  didn't  know  he  had  ever  been  there." 

"  Yes ;  twice." 

"  Did  you  see  him  there  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  nearly  dropped.  At  first  he  did  not  rec 
ognise  me — I  was  very  young — when " 

"  Did  he  speak  to  you?  " 

"  Yes.  I  managed  to  answer.  John  was  not  look 
ing  at  me,  fortunately.  .  .  .  After  that  he  wrote  to  me 
— and  I  burned  the  letter.  ...  It  was  horrible ;  he  said 
that  Jose  Querida  was  his  guest  at  El  Nauar,  and  he 
asked  me  to  get  you  because  you  knew  Querida,  and  be 
his  guest  for  a  week  end.  ...  I  cried  that  night ;  you 
heard  me." 

"  Was  that  it !  "  asked  Valerie,  very  pale. 

"  Yes ;  I  was  too  wretched  to  tell  you." 

Valerie  sat  silent,  her  teeth  fixed  in  her  lower  lip. 
Then: 

455 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Jose  could  not  have  known  what  kind  of  a  man 
the — other— is." 

"  I  hope  not." 

"  Oh,  he  couldn't  have  known !  Rita,  he  wouldn't 
have  let  him  ask  us " 

"  Men  seldom  deceive  one  another." 

"  You  don't  think  Jose  Querida  knew  ?  " 

"  I — don't — think.  .  .  .  Valerie,  men  are  very — 
very  unlike  women.  .  .  .  Forgive  me  if  I  seem  to  be  em 
bittered.  .  .  .  Even  you  have  had  your  experience  with 
men — the  men  that  all  the  world  seems  to  like — kind, 
jolly,  generous,  jovial,  amusing  men — and  clever  men; 
men  of  attainment,  of  distinction.  And  they — the  ma 
jority  of  them — are,  after  all,  just  men,  Valerie,  just 
men  in  a  world  made  for  men,  a  world  into  which  we  come 
like  timid  intruders ;  uncertain  through  generations  of 
uncertainty — innocently  stupid  through  ages  of  stupid 
innocence,  ready  to  please  though  not  knowing  ex 
actly  how;  ready  to  be  pleased,  God  knows,  with 
pleasures  as  innocent  as  the  simple  minds  that  dream 
of  them. 

"  Valerie,  I  do  not  believe  any  evil  first  came  into 
this  world  of  men  through  any  woman." 

Valerie  looked  down  at  her  folded  hands — small, 
smooth,  white  hands,  pure  of  skin  and  innocent  as  a 
child's. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  troubled,  "  how  much 
more  unhappiness  arises  through  men  than  through 
women,  if  any  more  ...  I  like  men.  Some  are  unruly 
— like  children ;  some  have  the  sense  and  the  morals  of 
marauding  dogs. 

"  But,  at  worst,  the  unruly  and  the  marauders  seem 
so  hopelessly  beneath  one,  intellectually,  that  a  girl's 

456 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


resentment  is  really  more  of  contempt  than  of  anger — 
and  perhaps  more  of  pity  than  of  either." 

Rita  said :  "  I  cannot  feel  as  charitably.  .  .  .  You 
still  have  that  right." 

"Rita!  Rita!"  she  said  softly,  "we  both  have 
loved  men,  you  with  the  ignorance  and  courage  of  a 
child — I  with  less  ignorance  and  with  my  courage  as  yet 
untested.  Where  is  the  difference  between  us — if  we 
love  sincerely  ?  " 

Rita  leaned  forward  and  looked  at  her  searchingly: 

"  Do  you  mean  to  do — what  you  said  you  would?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he  wants  me." 

Rita  sprang  to  her  feet  and  began  pacing  the  floor. 

"  I  will  not  have  it  so !  "  she  said  excitedly,  "  I  will 
not  have  it  so  !  If  he  is  a  man — a  real  man — he  will  not 
have  it  so,  either.  If  he  will,  he  does  not  love  you ; 
mark  what  I  say,  Valerie — he  does  not  love  you  enough. 
No  man  can  love  a  woman  enough  to  accept  that  from 
her ;  it  would  be  a  paradox,  I  tell  you !  " 

"  He  loves  me  enough,"  said  Valerie,  very  pale. 
"  He  could  not  love  me  as  I  care  for  him ;  it  is  not  in  a 
man  to  do  it,  nor  in  any  human  being  to  love  as  I  love 
him.  You  don't  understand,  Rita.  I  must  be  a  part 
of  him — not  very  much,  because  already  there  is  so 
much  to  him — and  I  am  so — so  unimportant." 

"  You  are  more  important  than  he  is,"  said  Rita 
fiercely — "  with  all  your  fineness  and  loyalty  and  divine 
sympathy  and  splendid  humility — with  your  purity  and 
your  loveliness ;  and  in  spite  of  his  very  lofty  intellect 
and  his  rather  amazing  genius,  and  his  inherited  social 
respectability — you  are  the  more  important  to  the  hap- 

457 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


pinesS  and  welfare  of  this  world — even  to  the  humblest 
corner  in  it !  " 

"  Rita !     Rita  !     What  wild,  partisan  nonsense  you 
are  talking !  " 


'His  thoughts  were  mostly  centred  on  Valerie." 

"  Oh,  Valerie,  Valerie,  if  you  only  knew !  If  you 
only  knew !  " 

Querida  called  next  day.  Rita  was  at  home  but 
flatly  refused  to  see  him. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Querida,"  she  said  to  the  janitor,  "  that 
neither  I  nor  Miss  West  are  at  home  to  him,  and  that 
if  he  is  as  nimble  at  riddles  as  he  is  at  mischief  he  can 

458 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


guess  this  one  before  his  friend  Mr.  Cardemon  returns 
from  a  voyage  around  the  world." 

Which  reply  slightly  disturbed  Querida. 

All  during  dinner — and  he  was  dining  alone — he 
considered  it;  and  his  thoughts  were  mostly  centred  on 
Valerie. 

Somehow,  some  way  or  other  he  must  come  to  an 
understanding  with  Valerie  West.  Somehow,  some  way, 
she  must  be  brought  to  listen  to  him.  Because,  while 
he  lived,  married  or  single,  poor  or  wealthy,  he  would 
never  rest,  never  be  satisfied,  never  wring  from  life  the 
last  drop  that  life  must  pay  him,  until  this  woman's  love 
was  his. 

He  loved  her  as  such  a  man  loves;  he  had  no  idea 
of  letting  that  love  for  her  interfere  with  other  ambi 
tions. 

Long  ago,  when  very  poor  and  very  talented  and 
very  confident  that  the  world,  which  pretended  to  ignore 
him,  really  knew  in  its  furtive  heart  that  it  owed  him 
fame  and  fortune  and  social  position,  he  had  determined 
to  begin  the  final  campaign  with  a  perfectly  suitable 
marriage. 

That  was  all  years  ago ;  and  he  had  never  swerved 
in  his  determination — not  even  when  Valerie  West 
surprised  his  life  in  all  the  freshness  of  her  young 
beauty. 

And,  as  he  sat  there  leisurely  over  his  claret,  he 
reflected,  easily,  that  the  time  had  come  for  the  mar 
riage,  and  that  the  woman  he  had  picked  out  was  per 
fectly  suitable,  and  that  the  suitable  evening  to  inform 
her  was  the  present  evening. 

Mrs.  Hind-Willet  was  prepossessing  enough  to  in 
terest  him,  clever  enough  to  stop  gaps  in  a  dinner  table 

459 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


conversation,  wealthy  enough  to  permit  him  a  liberty 
of  rejecting  commissions,  which  he  had  never  before 
dared  to  exercise,  and  fashionable  enough  to  carry  for 
him  what  could  not  be  carried  through  his  own  present 
able  good  looks  and  manners  and  fame. 

This  last  winter  he  had  become  a  frequenter  of  her 
house  on  Sixty-third  Street ;  and  so  carelessly  assiduous, 
and  so  delightfully  casual  had  become  his  attentions  to- 
that  beautifully  groomed  widow,  that  his  footing  with 
her  was  already  an  intimacy,  and  his  portrait  of  her,, 
which  he  had  given  her,  had  been  the  sensation  of  the  loan 
exhibition  at  the  great  Interborough  Charity  Bazaar. 

He  was  neither  apprehensive  nor  excited  as  he 
calmly  finished  his  claret.  He  was  to  drop  in  there 
after  dinner  to  discuss  with  her  several  candidates  as 
architects  for  the  New  Idea  Home. 

So  when  he  was  entirely  ready  he  took  his  hat  and 
stick  and  departed  in  a  taxicab,  pleasantly  suffused 
with  a  gentle  glow  of  anticipation.  He  had  waited 
many  years  for  such  an  evening  as  this  was  to  be.  He 
was  a  patient  and  unmoral  man.  He  could  wait  longer 
for  Valerie, — and  for  the  first  secret  blow  at  the  hap 
piness  and  threatened  artistic  success  of  Louis  Neville. 

So  he  rolled  away  in  his  taxi  very  comfortably, 
savouring  his  cigarette,  indolently  assured  of  his  recep 
tion  in  a  house  which  it  would  suit  him  perfectly  to 
inhabit  when  he  cared  to. 

Only  one  thing  worried  him  a  little — the  short  note 
he  had  received  from  his  friend  Penrhyn  Cardemon,  say 
ing  rather  brusquely  that  he'd  made  up  his  mind  not  to 
have  his  portrait  painted  for  five  thousand  dollars,  and 
that  he  was  going  off  on  The  Mohave  to  be  gone  a  year 
at  least. 

460 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Which  pained  Querida,  because  Cardemon  had  not 
only  side-stepped  what  was  almost  a  commission,  but  he 
had,  also,  apparently  forgotten  his  invitation  to  spend 
the  summer  on  The  Mohave — with  the  understanding 
that  Valerie  West  was  also  to  be  invited. 

However,  everything  comes  in  its  season ;  and 
this  did  not  appear  to  be  the  season  for  ripe  com 
missions  and  yachting  enterprises ;  but  it  certainly 
seemed  to  be  the  season  for  a  judicious  matrimonial 
enterprise. 

And  when  Mrs.  Hind-Willet  received  him  in  a  rose- 
tinted   reception   corner,  audaciously   intimate  and   se 
cluded,  he  truly  felt  that  he  was  really  missing  some 
thing  of  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  and  that  it  was  a 
little  too  easy  to  be  acutely  enjoyable. 

However,  when  at  last  he  had  gently  retained  her 
hand  and  had  whispered,  "  Alma,"  and  had  let  his  big, 
dark,  velvet  eyes  rest  with  respectful  passion  upon  her 
smaller  and  clearer  and  blacker  ones,  something  some 
where  in  the  machinery  seemed  to  go  wrong — annoy- 
ingly  wrong. 

Because  Mrs.  Hind-Willet  began  to  laugh — and 
evidently  was  trying  not  to — trying  to  remain  very  seri 
ous  ;  but  her  little  black  eyes  were  glistening  with  tears 
of  suppressed  mirth,  and  when,  amazed  and  offended,  he 
would  have  withdrawn  his  hand,  she  retained  it  almost 
convulsively : 

"  Jose !  I  beg  your  pardon ! — I  truly  do.  It  is 
perfectly  horrid  and  unspeakable  of  me  to  behave  this 
way ;  but  listen,  child !  I  am  forty  ;  I  am  perfectly  con 
tented  not  to  marry  again ;  and  I  don't  love  you.  So, 
my  poor  Jose,  what  on  earth  am  I  to  do  if  I  don't  laugh 
a  little.  I  can't  weep  over  it  you  know." 

461 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


The  scarlet  flush  faded  from  his  olive  skin. 
"  Alma,"  he  began  mournfully,  but  she  only  shook  her 
head,  vigorously. 

"  Nonsense,"  she  said.  "  You  like  me  for  a  suffi 
cient  variety  of  reasons.  And  to  tell  you  the  truth  I 
suspect  that  I  am  quite  as  madly  in  love  with  you  as 
you  actually  are  with  me.  No,  no,  Jose.  There  are 
too  many — discrepancies — of  various  kinds.  I  have 
too  little  to  gain! — to  be  horribly  frank — and  you — 
alas ! — are  a  very  cautious,  very  clever,  and  admirably 
sophisticated  young  man.  .  .  .  There,  there !  I  am  not 
really  accusing  you — or  blaming  you — very  much.  .  .  . 
I'd  have  tried  the  same  thing  in  your  place — yes,  indeed 
I  would.  .  .  .  But,  Jose  dear,  if  you'll  take  the  mature 
advice  of  fair,  plump,  and  forty,  you'll  let  the  lesser 
ambition  go. 

"  A  clever  wealthy  woman  nearer  your  age,  and  on 
the  edge  of  things — with  you  for  a  husband,  ought  to 
carry  you  and  herself  far  enough  to  suit  you.  And 
there'd  be  more  amusement  in  it,  believe  me.  .  .  .  And 
now — you  may  kiss  my  hand — very  good-humoredly 
and  respectfully,  and  we'll  talk  about  those  architects. 
Shall  we?" 

For  twenty-four  hours  Querida  remained  a  pro 
foundly  astonished  man.  Examine,  in  retrospective,  as 
he  would,  the  details  of  the  delicately  adjusted  machin 
ery  which  for  so  many  years  had  slowly  but  surely 
turned  the  interlocking  cog-wheels  of  destiny  for  him, 
he  could  not  find  where  the  trouble  had  been — could  dis 
cover  no  friction  caused  by  neglect  of  lubricants ;  no 
over-oiling,  either ;  no  flaw. 

Wherein  lay  the  trouble?  Based  on  what  error  was 
462 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


his  theory  that  the  average  man  could  marry  anybody 
he  chose?  Just  where  had  he  miscalculated? 

He  admitted  that  times  changed  very  fast ;  that  the 
world  was  spinning  at  a  rate  that  required  nimble  wits 
to  keep  account  of  its  revolutions.  But  his  own  wits 
were  nimble,  almost  feminine  in  the  rapid  delicacy  of 
their  intuition — almost  feminine,  but  not  quite.  And 
he  felt,  vaguely,  that  there  lay  his  mistake  in  engag 
ing  a  woman  with  a  woman's  own  weapons;  and 
that  the  only  chance  a  man  has  is  to  perplex  her  with 
his  own. 

The  world  was  spinning  rapidly ;  times  changed  very 
fast,  but  not  as  fast  as  women  were  changing  in  the 
Western  World.  For  the  self-sufficient  woman — the 
self-confident,  self-sustaining  individual,  not  only  con 
tent  but  actually  preferring  autonomy  of  mind  and 
body,  was  a  fact  in  which  Jose  Querida  had  never  really 
ever  believed.  No  sentimentalist  does  or  really  can. 
And  all  creators  of  things  artistic  are,  basically,  senti 
mentalists. 

Querida's  almond-shaped,  velvet  eyes  had  done  their 
share  for  him  in  his  time ;  they  were  merely  part  of  a 
complex  machinery  which  included  many  exquisitely  ad 
justed  parts  which  could  produce  at  will  such  phenom 
ena  as  temporary  but  genuine  sympathy  and  emotion :  a 
voice  controlled  and  modulated  to  the  finest  nuances ;  a 
grace  of  body  and  mind  that  resembled  inherent  deli 
cacy  ;  a  nervous  receptiveness  and  intelligence  almost 
supersensitive  in  its  recognition  of  complicated  ethical 
problems.  It  was  a  machinery  which  could  make  of  him 
any  manner  of  man  which  the  opportunism  of  the  par 
ticular  moment  required.  Yet,  with  all  this,  in  every 
nerve  and  bone  and  fibre  he  adored  material  and  intel- 

463 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


lectual  beauty,  and  physical  suffering  in  others  actually 
distressed  him. 

Now,  reviewing  matters,  deeply  interested  to  find 
the  microscopic  obstruction  which  had  so  abruptly 
stopped  the  machinery  of  destiny  for  him,  he  was  mod 
est  enough  and  sufficiently  liberal-minded  to  admit  to 
himself  that  Alma  Hind-Willet  was  the  exception  that 
proved  this  rule.  There  were  women  so  constructed 
that  they  had  become  essentially  unresponsive.  Alma 
was  one.  But,  he  concluded  that  if  he  lived  a  thousand 
years  he  was  not  likely  to  encounter  another. 

And  the  following .  afternoon  he  called  upon  Mrs. 
Hind-Willet's  understudy,  the  blue-eyed  little  Countess 
d'Enver. 

Helene  d'Enver  was  superintending  the  definite  clos 
ing  of  her  beautiful  duplex  apartments — the  most  beau 
tiful  in  the  great  chateau-like,  limestone  building.  And 
Jose  Querida  knew  perfectly  well  what  the  rents  were. 

"  Such  a  funny  time  to  come  to  see  me,"  she  had 
said  laughingly  over  the  telephone ;  "  I'm  in  a  dread 
ful  state  with  skirts  pinned  up  and  a  motor-bonnet  over 
my  hair,  but  I  will  not  permit  my  maids  to  touch  the 
porcelains;  and  if  you  really  wish  to  see  me,  come 
ahead." 

He  really  wished  to.  Besides  he  adored  her  Ming 
porcelains  and  her  Celedon,  and  the  idea  of  any  maid 
touching  them  almost  gave  him  heart-failure.  He  him 
self  possessed  one  piece  of  Ming  and  a  broken  fragment 
of  Celedon.  Women  had  been  married  for  less. 

She  was  very  charming  in  her  pinned-up  skirts  and 
her  dainty  head-gear,  and  she  welcomed  him  and  in 
trusted  him  with  specimens  which  sent  pleasant  shivers 
down  his  flexible  spine. 

464 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


And,  together,  they  put  away  many  scores  of  speci 
mens  which  were  actually  priceless,  inasmuch  as  any 
rumour  of  a  public  sale  would  have  excited  amateurs  to 
the  verge  of  lunacy,  and  almost  any  psychopathic 
might  have  established  a  new  record  for  madness  at  an 
auction  of  this  matchless  collection. 

They  breathed  easier  when  the  thrilling  task  was 
ended;  but  emotion  still  enchained  them  as  they  seated 
themselves  at  a  tea-table  —  an  emotion  so  deep  on 
Helene's  part  that  she  suffered  Querida  to  retain  the 
tips  of  her  fingers  for  an  appreciable  moment  when 
transferring  sugar  to  his  cup.  And  she  listened,  with 
a  smile  almost  tremulous,  to  the  fascinating  music  of  his 
voice,  charmingly  attuned  and  modulated  to  a  pitch, 
which,  somehow,  seemed  to  harmonise  with  the  very 
word,  Celedon. 

"  I  am  so  surprised,"  she  said  softly  —  but  his  dark 
eyes  noted  that  she  was  still  busy  with  her  tea  para 
phernalia  —  "  I  scarcely  know  what  to  think,  Mr.  Que 


"  Think  that  I  love  you  —  "  breathed  Querida, 
his  dark  and  beautiful  head  very  near  to  her  blond 
one. 

"  I—  am—  thinking  of  it.  ...  But  -  " 

"  Helene,"  he  whispered  musically  ;  —  and  suddenly 
stiffened  in  his  chair  as  the  maid  came  clattering  in 
over  the  rugless  and  polished  parquet  to  announce  Mr. 
Ogilvy,  followed  san  fafon  by  that  young  man,  swing 
ing  a  straw  hat  and  a  malacca  stick. 

"  Sam  !  "  said  the  pretty  Countess,  changing  coun 
tenance. 

"  Hello,  Helene  !  How-do,  Querida  !  I  heard  you 
were  temporarily  in  town,  dear  lady  —  "  He  kissed  a 

465 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


hand  that  was  as  faltering  and  guilty  as  the  irresolute 
eyes  she  lifted  to  his. 

Ten  minutes  later  Querida  took  his  leave.  He  dis 
missed  the  expensive  taxi  which  had  been  devouring  time 
outside,  and  walked  thoughtfully  away  down  the  fash 
ionable  street. 

Because  the  machinery  had  chanced  to  clog  twice 
did  not  disturb  his  theory ;  but  the  trouble  with  him  was 
local;  he  was  intensely  and  personally  annoyed,  nervous, 
irritated  unspeakably.  Because,  except  for  Valerie, 
these  two,  Alma  Hind-Willet  and  Helene  d'Enver,  were 
the  only  two  socially  and  financially  suitable  women  in 
whom  he  took  the  slightest  physical  interest. 

There  is,  in  all  women,  one  moment — sometimes  re 
peated — in  which  a  sudden  yielding  to  caprice  some 
times  overturns  the  logical  plans  laid  out  and  inexora 
bly  followed  for  half  a  lifetime.  And  there  was  much 
of  the  feminine  about  Querida. 

And  it  chanced  to  happen  on  this  day — when  no 
doubt  all  unsuspected  and  unperceived  some  lurking 
jettatura  had  given  him  the  evil  eye — that  he  passed 
by  hazard  through  the  block  where  Valerie  lived,  and 
saw  her  mounting  the  steps. 

"  Why,  Jose !  "  she  exclaimed,  a  trifle  confused  in 
her  smiling  cordiality  as  he  sprang  up  the  steps  behind 
her — for  Rita's  bitterness,  if  it  had  not  aroused  in  her 
suspicions,  had  troubled  her  in  spite  of  her  declaration 
of  unbelief. 

He  asked  for  a  cup  of  tea,  and  she  invited  him. 
Rita  was  in  the  room  when  they  entered ;  and  she  stood 
up  coolly,  coolly  returned  Querida's  steady  glance  and 
salutation  with  a  glance  as  calm,  as  detached,  and  as 
intelligent  as  a  surgeon's. 

466 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Neither  he  nor  she  referred  to  his  recent  call;  he 
was  perfectly  self-possessed,  entirely  amiable  with  that 
serene  and  level  good-humour  which  sometimes  masks  a 
defiance  almost  contemptuous. 

But  Rita's  engagements  required  her  to  leave  very 
shortly  after  his  advent ;  and  before  she  went  out  she 
deliberately  waited  to  catch  Valerie's  eye;  and  Valerie 
coloured  deeply  under  her  silent  message. 

Then  Rita  went  away  with  a  scarcely  perceptible 
nod  to  Querida ;  and  when,  by  the  clock,  she  had  been 
gone  twenty  minutes,  Querida,  without  reason,  without 
preparation,  and  perfectly  aware  of  his  moment's  insan 
ity,  yielded  to  a  second's  flash  of  caprice — the  second 
that  comes  once  in  the  lives  of  all  women — and  now,  in 
the  ordered  symmetry  of  his  life,  had  come  to  him. 

"  Valerie,"  he  said,  "  I  love  you.  Will  you  marry 
me?" 

She  had  been  leaning  sideways  on  the  back  of  her 
chair,  one  hand  supporting  her  cheek,  gazing  almost 
listlessly  out  of  the  open  window. 

She  did  not  stir,  nor  did  her  face  alter,  but,  very 
quietly  she  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 

He  spoke,  breathlessly,  eloquently,  persuasively,  and 
well;  the  perfect  machinery  was  imitating  for  him  a 
single-minded,  ardent,  honourable  young  man,  intelli 
gent  enough  to  know  his  own  mind,  manly  enough  to 
speak  it.  The  facsimile  was  flawless. 

He  had  finished  and  was  waiting,  long  fingers  grip 
ping  the  arms  of  his  chair ;  and  her  face  had  altered 
only  to  soften  divinely,  and  her  eyes  were  very  sweet 
and  untroubled. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  spoken  this  way  to  me,  Jose. 
Something  has  been  said  about  you — in  connection  with 

467 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Mr.  Cardemon — which  disturbed  me  and  made  me  very 
sad  and  miserable,  although  I  would  not  permit  myself 
to  believe  it.  ...  And  now  I  know  it  was  a  mistake — 
because  you  have  asked  me  to  be  your  wife." 

She  sat  looking  at  him,  the  sadness  in  her  eyes  em 
phasised  by  the  troubled  smile  curving  her  lips : 

"  I  couldn't  marry  you,  Jose,  because  I  am  not  in 
love  with  you.  If  I  were  I  would  do  it.  ...  But  I  do 
not  care  for  you  that  way." 

For  an  instant  some  inner  flare  of  madness  blinded 
his  brain  and  vision.  There  was,  in  his  face,  something 
so  terrible  that  Valerie  unconsciously  rose  to  her  feet, 
bewildered,  almost  stunned. 

"  I  want  you,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Jose !     What  in  the  world " 

His  dry  lips  moved,  but  no  articulate  sound  came 
from  them.  Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  out  of 
his  twisted,  distorted  mouth  poured  a  torrent  of  pas 
sion,  of  reproach,  of  half-crazed  pleading — incoherency 
tumbling  over  incoherency,  deafening  her,  beating  in 
upon  her,  till  she  swayed  where  she  stood,  holding  her 
arms  up  as  though  to  shield  herself. 

The  next  instant  she  was  straining,  twisting  in  his 
arms,  striving  to  cry  out,  to  wrench  herself  free  to 
keep  her  feet  amid  the  crash  of  the  overturned  table  and 
&  falling  chair. 

"  Jose !  Are  you  insane  ?  "  she  panted,  tearing  her 
self  free  and  springing  toward  the  door.  Suddenly  she 
halted,  uttered  a  cry  as  he  jumped  back  to  block  her 
way.  The  low  window-ledge  caught  him  under  both 
knees ;  he  clutched  at  nothing,  reeled  backward  and  out 
ward  and  fell  into  space. 

For  a  second  she  covered  her  white  face  with  both 
468 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


hands,  then  turned,  dragged  herself  to  the  open  window, 
forced  herself  to  look  out. 

He  lay  on  his  back  on  the  grass  in  the  rear  yard, 
and  the  janitor  was  already  bending  over  him.  And 
when  she  reached  the  yard  Querida  had  opened  both  eyes. 

Later  the  ambulance  came,  and  with  its  surgeon 
came  a  policeman.  Querida,  lying  with  his  head  on  her 
lap,  opened  his  eyes  again : 

"  I  was — seated — on  the  window-ledge,"  he  said 
with  difficulty — "  and  overbalanced  myself.  .  .  .  Caught 
the  table — but  it  fell  over.  .  .  .  That's  all." 

The  eyes  in  his  ghastly  face  closed  wearily,  then 
fluttered : 

"  Awfully  sorry,  Valerie — make  such  a  mess — in 
your  house." 

"  Oh-h— Jose,"  she  sobbed. 

After  that  they  took  him  away  to  the  Presbyterian 
Hospital;  and  nobody  seemed  to  find  very  much  the 
matter  with  him  except  that  he'd  been  badly  shocked. 

But  the  next  day  all  sensation  ceased  in  his  body 
from  the  neck  downward. 

And  they  told  Valerie  why. 

For  ten  days  he  lay  there,  perfectly  conscious,  pa 
tient,  good-humored,  and  his  almond-shaped  and  hol 
low  eyes  rested  on  Valerie  and  Rita  with  a  fatalistic 
serenity  subtly  tinged  with  irony. 

John  Burleson  came  to  see  him,  and  cried.  After 
he  left,  Querida  said  to  Valerie : 

"  John  and  I  are  destined  to  remain  near  neigh 
bours  ;  his  grief  is  well  meant,  but  a  trifle  premature." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  die,  Jose !  "  she  said  gently. 

But  he  only  smiled. 

Ogilvy  came,  Annan  came,  the  Countess  Helene,  and 
469 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


even  Mrs.  Hind-Willet.  He  inspected  them  all  with  his 
shadowy  and  mysterious  smile,  answered  them  gently; 
deep  in  his  sunken  eyes  a  sombre  amusement  seemed  to 
dwell.  But  there  was  in  it  no  bitterness. 

Then  Neville  came.  Valerie  and  Rita  were  absent 
that  day  but  their  roses  filled  the  private  ward-room 
with  a  hint  of  the  coming  summer. 

Querida  lay  looking  at  Neville,  the  half  smile  rest 
ing  on  his  pallid  face  like  a  slight  shadow  that  faintly 
waxed  and  waned  with  every  breath  he  drew. 

"  Well,"  he  said  quietly,  "  you  are  the  man  I  wished 
to  see." 

"  Querida,"  he  said,  deeply  affected,  "  this  thing 
isn't  going  to  be  permanent " 

"  No  ;  not  permanent.  It  won't  last,  Neville.  Noth 
ing  does  last.  .  .  .  unless  you  can  tell  me  whether  my 
pictures  are  going  to  endure.  Are  they?  I  know  that 
you  will  be  as  honest  with  me  as  I  was — dishonest  with 
you.  I  will  believe  what  you  say.  Is  my  work  des 
tined  to  be  permanent?" 

"Don't  you  know  it  is?" 

"  I  thought  so.  ...  But  you  know.  Because,  Ne 
ville,  you  are  the  iftan  who  is  coming  into  what  was 
mine,  and  what  will  be  your  own ; — and  you  are  com 
ing  into  more  than  that,  Neville,  more  than  I  ever 
could  have  attained.  Now  answer  me;  will  my  work 
live?" 

"  Always,"  said  Neville  simply. 

Querida  smiled: 

"  The  rest  doesn't  matter  then.  .  .  .  Even  Valerie 
doesn't  matter.  .  .  .  But  you  may  hand  me  one  of  her 
roses.  .  .  .  No,  a  bud,  if  you  don't  mind — unopened." 

When  it  was  time  for  Neville  to  go  Querida's  smile 
470 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


had  faded  and  the  pink  rose-bud  lay  wilted  in  his  fin 
gers. 

"  It  is  just  as  well,  Neville,"  he  said.  "  I  couldn't 
have  endured  your  advent.  Somebody  lias  to  be  first; 
I  was — as  long  as  I  lived.  ...  It  is  curious  how  ac 
quiescent  a  man's  mind  becomes — when  he's  like  this. 
I  never  believed  it  possible  that  a  man  really  could  die 
without  regret,  without  some  shadow  of  a  desire  to  live. 
Yet  it  is  that  way,  Neville.  .  .  .  But  a  man  must  lie 
dying  before  he  can  understand  it." 

A  highly  tinted  uncle  from  Oporto  arrived  in  New 
York  just  in  time  to  see  Querida  alive.  He  brought 
with  him  a  parrot. 

"  Send  it  to  Mrs.  Hind-Willet,"  whispered  Querida 
with  stiffening  lips ;  "  uno  lavanta  la  capa  y  otro  la 
mata." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  died,  and  his  highly  coloured 
uncle  from  Oporto  sent  the  bird  to  Mrs.  Hind-Willet 
and  made  the  thriftiest  arrangement  possible  to  trans 
port  what  was  mortal  of  a  great  artist  to  Oport< 
where  a  certain  kind  of  parrot  comes  from. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

ON  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  June  Neville  came 
into  his  studio  and  found  there  a  letter  from  Valerie : 

"  DEAREST  :  I  am  not  keeping  my  word  to  you ;  I 
am  asking  you  for  more  time;  and  I  know  you  will 
grant  it. 

"  Jose  Querida's  death  has  had  a  curious  effect  on 
me.  I  was  inclined  to  care  very  sincerely  for  him;  I 
comprehended  him  better  than  many  people,  I  think. 
Yet  there  was  much  in  him  that  I  never  understood. 
And  I  doubt  that  he  ever  entirely  understood  himself. 

"  I  believe  that  he  was  really  a  great  painter,  Louis 
— and  have  sometimes  thought  that  his  character  was 
mediaeval  at  the  foundations — with  five  centuries  of  civ 
ilisation  thinly  deposited  over  the  bed-rock.  ...  In 
him  there  seemed  to  be  something  primitive ;  something 
untamable,  and  utterly  irreconcilable  with  the  funda 
mental  characteristics  of  modern  man. 

"  He  was  my  friend.  .  .  .  Friendship,  they  say,  is  a 
1  record  of  misunderstandings ;  and  it  was   so  with  us. 
But  may  I  tell  you  something?     Jose  Querida  loved  me 
— in  his  own  fashion. 

"  What  kind  of  a  love  it  was — of  what  value — I  can 
not  tell  you.  I  do  not  think  it  was  very  high  in  the 
scale.  Only  he  felt  it  for  me,  and  for  no  other  woman 
I  believe. 

472 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  It  never  was  a  love  that  I  could  entirely  under 
stand  or  respect ;  yet, — it  is  odd  but  true — I  cared 
something  for  it — perhaps  because,  in  spite  of  its  un 
familiar  and  sometimes  repellent  disguises — it  was  love 
after  all. 

"  And  now,  as  at  heart  and  in  mind  you  and  I  are 
one ;  and  as  I  keep  nothing  of  real  importance  from  you 
— perhaps  can  not ;  I  must  tell  you  that  Jose  Querida 
came  that  day  to  ask  me  to  marry  him. 

"  I  tried  to  make  him  understand  that  I  could  not 
think  of  such  a  thing ;  and  he  lost  his  head  and  became 
violent.  That  is  how  the  table  fell: — I  had  started  to 
ward  the  door  when  he  sprang  back  to  block  me,  and 
the  low  window-sill  caught  him  under  the  knees,  and  he 
fell  outward  into  the  yard. 

"  I  know  of  course  that  no  blame  could  rest  on  me, 
but  it  was  a  terrible  and  dreadful  thing  that  happened 
there  in  one  brief  second ;  and  somehow  it  seems  to  have 
moved  in  me  depths  that  have  never  before  been  stirred. 

"  The  newspapers,  as  you  know,  published  it  merely 
as  an  accident — which  it  really  was.  But  they  might 
have  made  it,  by  innuendo,  a  horror  for  me.  However, 
they  put  it  so  simply  and  so  unsuspiciously  that  Jose 
Querida  might  have  been  any  nice  man  calling  on  any 
nice  woman. 

"  Louis,  I  have  never  been  so  lonely  in  my  life  as  I 
have  been  since  Jose  Querida  died ;  alas !  not  because  he 
has  gone  out  of  my  life  forever,  but  because,  somehow, 
the  manner  of  his  death  has  made  me  realise  how  diffi 
cult  it  is  for  a  woman  alone  to  contend  with  men  in  a 
man's  own  world. 

"  Do  what  she  may  to  maintain  her  freedom,  her  in 
tegrity,  there  is  always, — sometimes  impalpable,  some- 
16  473 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


times  not — a  steady,  remorseless  pressure  on  her,  forc 
ing  her  unwillingly  to  take  frightened  cognisance  of 
men ; — take  into  account  their  inexorable  desire  for 
domination ;  the  subtle  cohesion  existent  among  them 
which,  at  moments,  becomes  like  a  wall  of  adamant  bar 
ring,  limiting,  inclosing  and  forcing  women  toward  the 
deep-worn  grooves  which  women  have  trodden  through 
the  sad  centuries ; — and  which  they  tread  still — and  will 
tread  perhaps  for  years  to  come  before  the  real  en 
franchisement  of  mankind  begins. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  write  bitterly,  dear ;  but,  some 
how,  all  this  seems  to  bear  significantly,  ominously,  upcff 
my  situation  in  the  world. 

"  When  I  first  knew  you  I  felb  so  young,  so  confi' 
dent,  so  free,  so  scornful  of  custom,  so  wholesomely 
emancipated  from  silly  and  unjust  conventions,  that 
perhaps  I  overestimated  my  own  vigour  r,nd  ability  tcr 
go  my  way,  unvexed,  unfettered  in  this  man's  world, 
and  let  the  world  make  its  own  journey  i?  peace.  Bu* 
it  will  not. 

"  Twice,  now,  within  a  month, — and  not  through  anj 
conscious  fault  of  mine — this  man's  world  hat'  shown  it? 
teeth  at  me ;  I  have  been  menaced  by  its  innate  scorn  oi 
woman,  and  have,  by  chance,  escaped  a  publicity  which 
would  have  damned  me  so  utterly  that  I  would  not  have 
cared  to  live. 

"  And  dear,  for  the  first  time  I  really  begin  to  un 
derstand  now  what  the  shelter  of  a  family  means ;  what 
it  is  to  have  law  on  my  side, — and  a  man  who  under 
stands  his  man's  world  well  enough  to  fight  it  with  its 
own  weapons ; — well  enough  to  protect  a  woman  from 
things  she  never  dreamed  might  menace  her. 

''  When  that  policeman  came  into  my  room, — dear, 
474 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


you  will  think  me  a  perfect  coward — but  suddenly  I 
seemed  to  realise  what  law  meant,  and  that  it  had  power 
to  protect  me  or  destroy  me.  .  .  .  And  I  was  fright 
ened, — and  the  table  lay  there  with  the  fragments  of 
broken  china — and  there  was  that  dreadful  window — 
and  I — I  who  knew  how  he  died ! — Louis  !  Louis  !  guilt 
less  as  I  was, — blameless  in  thought  and  deed — I  died  a 
thousand  deaths  there  while  the  big  policeman  and  the 
reporters  were  questioning  me. 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  what  Jose  was  generous 
enough  to  say,  I  could  never  have  thought  out  a  lie  to 
tell  them ;  I  should  have  told  them  how  it  had  really  hap 
pened.  .  .  .  And  what  the  papers  would  hava  printed 
about  him  and  about  me,  God  only  knows. 

"  Never,  never  had  I  needed  you  as  I  needed  you  at 
that  moment.  .  .  .  Well ;  I  lied  to  them,  somehow ;  I 
said  to  them  what  Jose  had  said — that  he  was  seated 
on  the  window-ledge,  lost  his  balance,  clutched  at  the 
table,  overturned  it,  and  fell.  And  they  believed  me. 
...  It  is  the  first  lie  since  I  was  a  little  child,  that  I 
have  ever  knowingly  told.  .  .  .  And  I  know  now  that  I 
could  never  contrive  to  tell  another. 

"  Dear,  let  me  try  to  think  out  what  is  best  for  us. 
.  .  .  And  forgive  me,  Louis,  if  I  can  not  help«,  thought 
or  two  of  self  creeping  in.  I  am  so  terribly  alone. 
Somehow  I  am  beginning  to  believe  that  it  may  some 
times  be  a  weakness  to  totally  ignore  one's  self.  .  .  . 
Not  that  I  consider  myself  of  importance  compared  to 
you,  my  darling;  not  that  I  would  fail  to  set  aside  any 
thought  of  self  where  your  welfare  is  concerned.  You 
know  that,  don't  you? 

"  But  I  have  been  wondering  how  it  would  be  with 
you  if  I  passed  quietly  and  absolutely  out  of  your  life. 

475 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


That  is  what  I  am  trying  to  determine.  Because  it 
must  be  either  that  or  the  tie  unrecognised  by  civilisa 
tion.  And  which  would  be  better  for  you?  I  do  not 
know  yet.  I  ask  more  time.  Don't  write  me.  Your 
silence  will  accord  it. 

"  You  are  always  in  my  thoughts. 

"  VALERIE." 

Ogilvy  came  into  the  studio  that  afternoon,  loqua 
cious,  in  excellent  humour,  and  lighting  a  pipe,  de 
tailed  what  news  he  had  while  Neville  tried  to  hide  his 
own  deep  perplexity  and  anxiety  under  a  cordial  wel 
come. 

"  You  know,"  said  Ogilvy,  "  that  all  the  time  you've 
given  me  and  all  your  kindness  and  encouragement  has 
made  a  corker  of  that  picture  of  mine." 

"  You  did  it  yourself,"  said  Neville.  "  It's  good 
work,  Sam." 

"  Sure  it's  good  work — being  mostly  yours.  And 
what  do  you  think,  Kelly ;  it's  sold !  " 

"Good  for  you!" 

"  Certainly  it's  good  for  me.  I  need  the  mazuma. 
A  courteous  multi  purchased  it  for  his  Long  Branch 
cottage-^said  cottage  costing  a  million.  What?  " 

"  Oh,  you're  doing  very  well,"  laughed  Neville. 

"  I've  got  to.  .  .  .  I've — h'm ! — undertaken  to  as 
sume  obligations  toward  civilisation — h'm ! — and  certain 
duties  to  my — h'm — country " 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  driving  at?  "  asked  Neville, 
eying  him. 

"  Huh!  Driving  single  just  at  present;  practising 
for  tandem — h'm . — and  a  spike — h'm — some  day — I 

hope — of  course " 

476 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"Sam!" 

"Hey?" 

"  Are  you  trying  to  say  something  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lord,  no !  Why,  Kelly,  did  you  suspect  that 
I  was  really  attempting  to  convey  anything  to  you 
which  I  was  really  too  damned  embarrassed  to  tell  you 
in  the  patois  of  my  native  city  ?  " 

"  It  sounded  that  way,"  observed  Neville,  smiling. 

"  Did  it  ?  "  Ogilvy  considered,  head  on  one  side. 
"  Did  it  sound  anything  like  a — h'm ! — a  man  who  was 
trying  to — h'm! — to  tell  you  that  he  was  going  to — 
h'm. — to  try  to  get  somebody  to  try  to  let  him  try  to 
tell  her  that  he  wanted  to — marry  her  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  exclaimed  Neville,  bewildered, 
"  what  do  you  mean?  " 

Ogilvy  pirouetted,  picked  up  a  mahl-stick,  and  be 
gan  a  lively  fencing  bout  with  an  imaginary  adversary. 

"  I'm  going  to  get  married,"  he  said  amiably. 

"What!" 

"  Sure." 

"To  whom?" 

"To  Helene  d'Enver.  Only  she  doesn't  know  it 
yet." 

"  What  an  infernal  idiot  you  are,  Sam !  " 

"  Ya-as,  so  they  say.  Some  say  I'm  an  ass,  others 
a  bally  idiot,  others  merely  refer  to  me  as  imbecile.  And 
to  it  goes,  Kelly, — so  it  goes." 

He  flourished  his  mahl-stick,  neatly  punctured  the 
air,  and  cried  "  Hah !  "  very  fiercely. 

Then  he  said: 

"  I've  concluded  to  let  Helene  know  about  it  this 
afternoon." 

"  About  what  ? — y ou  monkey  ?  " 
477 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  About  our  marriage.  Won't  it  surprise  her 
though!  Oh,  no!  But  I  think  I'll  let  her  into  the 
secret  before  some  suspicious  gink  gets  wind  of  it  and 
tells  her  himself." 

Neville  looked  at  the  boy,  perplexed,  undecided, 
until  he  caught  his  eye.  And  over  Sam's  countenance 
stole  a  vivid  and  beauteous  blush. 

"  Sam !     I — upon  my  word  I  believe  you  mean  it !  " 

"  Sure  I  do  !  " 

Neville  grasped  his  hand: 

"  My  dear  fellow !  "  he  said  cordially,  "  I  was  slow, 
not  unsympathetic.  I'm  frightfully  glad — I'm  per 
fectly  delighted.  She's  a  charming  and  sincere  woman. 
Go  in  and  win  and  God  bless  you  both !  " 

Ogilvy  wrung  his  hand,  then,  to  relieve  his  feelings, 
ran  all  over  the  floor  like  a  spider  and  was  pretending 
to  spin  a  huge  web  in  a  corner  when  Harry  Annan  and 
Rita  Tevis  came  in  and  discovered  him. 

"  Hah !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  flies !  Two  nice,  silly, 
appetising  flies.  Pretend  to  fall  into  my  web,  Rita,  and 
begin  to  buzz  like  mad !  " 

Rita's  dainty  nose  went  up  into  the  air,  but  Annan 
succumbed  to  the  alluring  suggestion,  and  presently  he 
was  buzzing  frantically  in  a  corner  while  Sam  spun  an 
imaginary  web  all  over  him. 

Rita  and  Neville  looked  on  for  a  while. 

"  Sam  never  will  grow  up,"  she  said  disdainfully. 

"  He's  fortunate,"  observed  Neville. 

"  You  don't  think  so." 

''  I  wish  I  knew  what  I  did  think,  Rita.  How  is 
John?" 

"  I  came  to  tell  you.     He  has  gone  to  Dartford." 

"To    see    Dr.  Ogilvy?      Good!      I'm    glad,    Rita. 
478 


"Ogilvy  .  .  .  began  a  lively  fencing  bout  with  an  imaginary 
adversary." 

Billy  Ogilvy  usually  makes  people  do  what  he  tells  them 
to  do." 

The  girl  stood  silent,  eyes  lowered.  After  a  while 
she  looked  up  at  him ;  and  in  her  unfaltering  but  sor 
rowful  gaze  he  read  the  tragedy  which  he  had  long  since 
suspected. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  moment;  he  held  out  both 
479 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


hands ;  she  laid  her's  in  them,  and  her  gaze  became  re 
mote. 

After  a  while  she  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Let  me  be  with  you  now  and  then  while  he's 
away ;  will  you,  Kelly  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Would  you  like  to  pose  for  me?  I  haven't 
anything  pressing  on  hand.  You  might  begin  now  if 
it  suits  you." 

"  May  I?  "  she  asked  gratefully. 

"  Of  course,  child.  .  .  .  Let  me  think — "  He  looked 
again  into  her  dark  blue  eyes,  absently,  then  suddenly 
his  attention  became  riveted  upon  something  which  he 
seemed  to  be  reading  in  her  face. 

Long  before  Sam  and  Harry  had  ended  their 
puppy-like  scuffling  and  had  retired  to  woo  their  re 
spective  deputy-muses,  Rita  was  seated  on  the  model- 
stand,  and  Neville  had  already  begun  that  strange  and 
sombre  picture  afterward  so  famous,  and  about  which 
one  of  the  finest  of  our  modern  poets  wrote: 

"Her  gold  hair,  fallen  about  her  face 
Made  light  within  that  shadowy  place, 

But  on  her  garments  lay  the  dust 
Of  many  a  vanished  race. 

"  Her  deep  eyes,  gazing  straight  ahead, 
Saw  years  and  days  and  hours  long  dead, 

While  strange  gems  glittered  at  her  feet, 
Yellow,  and  green,  and  red. 

"  And  ever  from  the  shadows  came 
Voices  to  pierce  her  heart  like  flame, 

The  great  bats  fanned  her  with  their  wings, 
The  voices  called  her  name. 
480 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  But  yet  her  look  turned  not  aside 
From  the  black  deep  where  dreams  abide, 
Where  worlds  and  pageantries  lay  dead 
Beneath  that  viewless  tide. 

"  Her  elbow  on  her  knee  was  set, 
Her  strong  hand  propt  her  chin,  and  yet ' 

No  man  might  name  that  look  she  wore, 
Nor  any  man  forget." 

All  day  long  in  the  pleasant  June  weather  they 
worked  together  over  the  picture ;  and  if  he  really  knew 
what  he  was  about,  it  is  uncertain,  for  his  thoughts  were 
of  Valerie;  and  he  painted  as  in  a  dream,  and  with  a 
shadowy  splendour  that  seemed  even  to  him  unreal. 

They  scarcely  spoke;  now  and  then  Rita  came  si 
lently  on  sandalled  feet  to  stand  behind  him  and  look  at 
what  he  had  done. 

The  first  time  she  thought  to  herself,  "  Querida !  " 
But  the  second  time  she  remained  mute;  and  when  the 
daylight  was  waning  to  a  golden  gloom  in  the  room  she 
came  a  third  time  and  stood  with  one  hand  on  his  arm, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  dawning  mystery  on  the  canvas 
— spellbound  under  the  sombre  magnificence  already 
vaguely  shadowed  forth  from  infinite  depth  of  shade. 

Gladys  came  and  rubbed  and  purred  around  his 
legs ;  the  most  recent  progeny  toddled  after  her,  ratty 
tails  erect;  sportive,  casual  little  optimists  frisking  un 
steadily  on  wavering  legs  among  the  fading  sunbeams 
on  the  floor. 

The  sunbeams  died  out  on  wall  and  ceiling;  high 
through  the  glass  roof  above,  a  shoal  of  rosy  clouds 
paled  to  saffron,  then  to  a  cinder  gray.  And  the  first 
night-hawk,  like  a  huge,  erratic  swallow,  sailed  into  view, 

481 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


soaring,  tumbling  aloft,  while  its  short  raucous  cry 
sounded  incessantly  above  the  roofs  and  chimneys. 

Neville  was  still  seated  before  his  canvas,  palette  flat 
across  his  left  arm,  the  sheaf  of  wet  brushes  held  loosely, 

"  I  suppose  you  are  dining  with  Valerie,"  he  said. 

"  No."- 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her,  inquiringly. 

"  Valerie  has  gone  away." 

"Where?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Kelly.  ...  I  was  not  to  know." 

"  I  see."  He  picked  up  a  handful  of  waste  and 
slowly  began  to  clean  the  brushes,  one  by  one.  Then 
he  drove  them  deep  into  a  bowl  of  black  soap. 

"  Shall  we  dine  together  here,  Rita?  " 

"  If  you  care  to  have  me." 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

He  laid  aside  his  palette,  rang  up  the  kitchen,  gave 
his  order,  and  slowly  returned  to  where  Rita  was  seated. 

Dinner  was  rather  a  silent  affair.  They  touched 
briefly  and  formally  on  Querida  and  his  ripening  talent 
prematurely  annihilated;  they  spoke  of  men  they  knew 
who  were  to  come  after  him — a  long,  long  way  after 
him. 

"  I  don't  know  who  is  to  take  his  place,"  mused 
Neville  over  his  claret. 

"  You." 

"  Not  his  place,  Rita.  He  thought  so ;  but  that 
place  must  remain  his." 

"  Perhaps.  But  you  are  carving  out  your  own 
niche  in  a  higher  tier.  You  are  already  beginning  to 
do  it;  and  yesterday  his  niche  was  the  higher.  .  .  . 
Yet,  after  all— after  all- 
He  nodded.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  what  does  it  matter 
482 


"Then  Rita  came  silently  on  sandalled  feet  to  stand  behind  him 
and  look  at  what  he  had  done." 

to  him,  now?  A  man  carves  out  his  resting  place  as 
you  say,  but  he  carves  it  out  in  vain.  Those  who  come 
after  him  will  either  place  him  in  his  proper  sepulchre 
...  or  utterly  neglect  him.  .  .  .  And  neglect  or  trans 
fer  will  cause  him  neither  happiness  nor  pain.  .  .  . 
Both  are  ended  for  Querida; — let  men  exalt  him  above 
all,  or  bury  him  and  his  work  out  of  sight — what  does 
he  care  about  it  now  ?  He  has  had  all  that  life  held  for 

483 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


him,  and  what  another  life  may  promise  him  no  man  can 
know.  All  reward  for  labour  is  here,  Rita;  and  the 
reward  lasts  only  while  the  pleasure  in  labour  lasts. 
Creative  work — even  if  well  done — loses  its  savour 
when  it  is  finished.  Happiness  in  it  ends  with  the  final 
touch.  It  is  like  a  dead  thing  to  him  who  created  it ; 
men's  praise  or  blame  makes  little  impression ;  and  the 
aftertaste  of  both  is  either  bitter  or  flat  and  lasts  but 
a  moment." 

"  Are  you  a  little  morbid,  Kelly?  " 

"Ami?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  so.'* 

"And  you,  Rita?" 

She  shook  her  pretty  head  in  silence. 

After  a  while  Gladys  jumped  up  into  her  lap,  and 
she  lay  back  in  her  arm-chair  smoothing  the  creature's 
fur,  and  gazing  absently  into  space. 

"  Kelly,"  she  said,  "  how  many,  many  years  ago  it 
seems  when  you  came  up  to  Delaware  County  to  see  us." 

"  It  seems  very  long  ago  to  me,  too." 

She  lifted  her  blue  eyes : 

"  May  I  speak  plainly  ?  I  have  known  you  a  long 
while.  There  is  only  one  man  I  like  better.  But  there 
is  no  woman  in  the  world  whom  I  love  as  I  love  Valerie 
West.  .  .  .  May  I  speak  plainly?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then— be  fair  to  her,  Kelly.     Will  you?  " 

"  I  will  try." 

"  Try  very  hard.  For  after  all  it  is  a  man's  world, 
and  she  doesn't  understand  it.  Try  to  be  fair  to  her, 
Kelly.  For — whether  or  not  the  laws  that  govern  the 
world  are  man-made  and  unjust — they  are,  nevertheless, 
the  only  laws.  Few  men  can  successfully  fight  them; 

484 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


no  woman  can — yet.  ...  I  am  not  angering  you, 
am  I?  " 

"  No.     Go  on." 

"  I  have  so  little  to  say — I  who  feel  so  deeply — 
deeply.  .  .  .  And  the  laws  are  always  there,  Kelly,  al 
ways  there — fair  or  unfair,  just  or  unjust — they  are 
always  there  to  govern  the  world  that  framed  them. 
And  a  woman  disobeys  them  at  her  peril." 

She  moved  slightly  in  her  chair  and  sat  supporting 
her  head  on  one  pretty  ringless  hand. 

"  Yet,"  she  said,  "  although  a  woman  disobeys  any 
law  at  her  peril — laws  which  a  man  may  often  ignore 
with  impunity — there  is  one  law  to  which  no  woman 
should  dare  subscribe.  And  it  is  sometimes  known  as 
6  The  Common  Law  of  Marriage.' ' 

She  sat  silent  for  a  while,  her  gaze  never  leaving  his 
shadowy  face. 

"  That  is  the  only  law — if  it  is  truly  a  law — that  a 
woman  must  ignore.  All  others  it  is  best  for  her  to  ob 
serve.  And  if  the  laws  of  marriage  are  merely  man- 
made  or  divine,  I  do  not  know.  There  is  a  din  in  the 
world  to-day  which  drowns  the  voices  preaching  old 
beliefs.  .  .  .  And  a  girl  is  deafened  by  the  clamour. 
.  .  .  And  I  don't  know. 

"  But,  it  seems  to  me,  that  back  of  the  laws  men 
have  made — if  there  be  nothing  divine  in  their  inspira 
tion — there  is  another  foundation  solid  enough  to  carry 
them.  Because  it  seems  to  me  that  the  world's  laws — 
even  when  unjust — are  built  on  natural  laws.  And  how 
can  a  girl  say  that  these  natural  laws  are  unjust  be 
cause  they  have  fashioned  her  to  bear  children  and  feed 
them  from  her  own  body? 

"  And  another  thing,  Kelly ;  if  a  man  breaks  a  man- 
485 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


made  law — founded,  we  believe,  on  a  divine  command 
ment — he  suffers  only  in  a  spiritual  and  moral  sense. 
.  .  .  And  with  us  it  may  be  more  than  that.  For 
women,  at  least,  hell  is  on  earth." 

He  stirred  in  his  chair,  and  his  sombre  gaze  rested 
on  the  floor  at  her  feet. 

"  What  are  we  to  do?  "  he  said  dully. 

Rita  shook  her  head: 

"  I  don't  know.  I  am  not  instructing  you,  Kelly, 
only  recalling  to  your  mind  what  you  already  know; 
what  all  men  know,  and  find  so  convenient  to  forget. 
Love  is  not  excuse  enough;  the  peril  is  unequally  di 
vided.  The  chances  are  uneven;  the  odds  are  unfair. 
If  a  man  really  loves  a  woman,  how  can  he  hazard  her 
in  a  game  of  chance  that  is  not  square?  How  can  he 
let  her  offer  more  than  he  has  at  stake — even  if  she  is 
willing?  How  can  he  permit  her  to  risk  more  than  he 
is  even  able  to  risk?  How  can  he  accept  a  magnanimity 
which  leaves  him  her  hopeless  debtor?  But  men  have 
done  it,  men  will  continue  to  do  it ;  God  alone  knows 
how  they  reconcile  it  with  their  manhood  or  find  it  in 
their  hearts  to  deal  so  unfairly  by  us.  But  they  do. 
.  .  .  And  still  we  stake  all ;  and  proudly  overlook  the 
chances  against  us ;  and  face  the  contemptible  odds 
with  a  smile,  dauntless  and — damned !  " 

He  leaned  forward  in  the  dusk;  she  could  sec  his 
bloodless  features  now  only  as  a  pale  blot  in  the  twilight. 

"  All  this  I  knew,  Rita.  But  it  is  just  as  well,  per 
haps,  that  you  remind  me." 

"  I  thought  it  might  be  as  well.  The  world  has 
grown  very  clever;  but  after  all  there  is  no  steadier 
anchor  for  a  soul  than  a  platitude." 

486 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


Ogilvy  and  Annan  came  mincing  in  about  nine 
o'clock,  disposed  for  flippancy  and  gossip ;  but  neither 
Neville  nor  Rita  encouraged  them ;  so  after  a  while  they 
took  their  unimpaired  cheerfulness  and  horse-play  else 
where,  leaving  the  two  occupants  of  the  studio  to  their 
own  silent  devices. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  walked  back  with 
Rita  to  her  rooms. 

And  now  day  followed  day  in  a  sequence  of  limpid 
dawns  and  cloudless  sunsets.  Summer  began  with  a 
clear,  hot  week  in  June,  followed  by  three  days'  steady 
downpour  which  freshened  and*  cooled  the  city  and  un 
folded,  in  square  and  park,  everything  green  into  mag 
nificent  maturity. 

Every  day  Neville  and  Rita  worked  together  in  the 
studio;  and  every  evening  they  walked  together  in  the 
park  or  sat  in  the  cool,  dusky  studio,  companionably 
conversational  or  permitting  silence  to  act  as  their 
interpreter. 

Then  John  Burleson  came  back  from  Dartford  after 
remaining  there  ten  days  under  Dr.  Ogilvy's  observa 
tion  ;  and  Rita  arrived  at  the  studio  next  day  almost 
smiling. 

"  We're  going  to  Arizona,"  she  said.  t(  What  do 
you  think  of  that,  Kelly?  " 

"  You  poor  child !  "  exclaimed  Neville,  taking  her 
hands  into  his  and  holding  them  closely. 

"  Why,  Kelly,"  she  said  gently,  "  I  knew  he  had 
to  go.  This  has  not  taken  me  unawares." 

"  I  hoped  there  might  be  some  doubt,"  he  said. 

"  There  was  none  in  my  mind.  I  foresaw  it.  Listen 
to  me:  twice  in  a  woman's  life  a  woman  becomes  a 

487 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


prophetess.  That  fatal  clairvoyance  is  permitted  to  a 
woman  twice  in  her  life — and  the  second  time  it  is 
neither  for  herself  that  she  foresees  the  future,  nor  for 
him  whom  she  loves.  ..." 

"  I  wish — I  wish —  '  he  hesitated ;  and  she  flushed 
brightly. 

"  I  know  what  you  wish,  Kelly  dear.  I  don't  think 
it  will  ever  happen.  But  it  is  so  much  for  me  to  be 
permitted  to  remain  near  him — so  much! — Ah,  you 
don't  know,  Kelly !  You  don't  know !  " 

"  Would  you  marry  him?  " 

Her  honest  blue  eyes  met  his : 

"  If  he  asked  me ;  and  if  he  still  wished  it — after  he 
knew." 

"  Could  you  ever  be  less  to  him — and  perhapi  more, 
Rita?" 

"  Do  you  mean " 

He  nodded  deliberately. 

She  hung  her  head. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  if  I  could  be  no  more  I  would 
be  what  I  could." 

"  And  you  tell  me  that,  after  all  that  jou  have 
said?" 

"  I  did  not  pretend  to  speak  for  men,  Kelly.  I  told 
you  that  women  had,  and  women  still  would  overlook 
the  chances  menacing  them  and  face  the  odds  daunt- 
lessly.  .  .  .  Because,  whatever  a  man  is — if  a  woman 
loves  him  enough — he  is  worth  to  her  what  she  gives." 
• "  Rita !  Rita  !  Is  it  you  who  content  yourself  with 
such  sorry  philosophy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  I.  You  asked  me  and  I  answer  you. 
Whatever  I  said — I  know  only  one  thing  now.  And  you 
know  what  that  is." 

488 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  And  where  am  I  to  look  for  sympathy  and  sup 
port  in  my  own  decision  ?  What  can  I  think  now  about 
all  that  you  have  said  to  me?  " 

"  You  will  never  forget  it,  Kelly — whatever  becomes 
of  the  girl  who  said  it.  Because  it's  the  truth,  no  mat 
ter  whose  lips  uttered  it." 

He  released  her  hands  and  she  went  away  to  dress 
herself  for  the  pose.  When  she  returned  and  seated 
herself  he  picked  up  his  palette  and  brushes  and  began 
in  silence. 

That  evening  he  went  to  see  John  Buries  on  and 
found  him  smoking  tranquilly  in  the  midst  of  disorder. 
Packing  cases,  trunks,  bundles,  boxes  were  scattered  and 
piled  up  in  every  direction,  and  the  master  of  the  es 
tablishment,  apparently  in  excellent  health,  reclined  on 
a  lounge  in  the  centre  of  chaos,  the  long  clay  stem  of 
a  church-warden  pipe  between  his  lips,  puffing  rings  at 
the  ceiling. 

"  Hello,  Kelly !  "  he  exclaimed,  sitting  up  ;  "  I've  got 
to  move  out  of  this  place.  Rita  told  you  all  about  it, 
didn't  she?  Isn't  it  rotten  hard  luck?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.    What  did  Billy  Ogilvy  saj  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  got  it  all  right.  Not  seriously  yet. 
What's  Arizona  like,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Half  hell,  half  paradise,  they  say." 

"  Then  me  for  the  celestial  section.  Ogilvy  gave  me 
the  name  of  a  place  " — he  fumbled  about — "  Rita  has 
it,  I  believe.  .  .  .  Isn't  she  a  corker  to  go?  My  con 
science,  Kelly,  what  a  Godsend  it  will  be  to  have  a 
Massachusetts  girl  out  there  to  talk  to !  " 

"  Isn't  she  going  as  your  model?  " 

"My  Lord,  man!  Don't  you  talk  to  a  model?  Is 
489 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


a  nice  girl  who  poses  for  a  fellow  anything  extra-human 
or  superhuman  or — or  unhuman  or  inhuman — so  that 
intelligent  conversation  becomes  impossible?  " 

"  No,"  began  Neville,  laughing,  but  Burleson  inter 
rupted  excitedly : 

"  A  girl  can  be  anything  she  chooses  if  she's  all 
right,  can't  she?  And  Rita  comes  from  Massachusetts, 
doesn't  she?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Not  only  from  Massachusetts,  but  from  Hither- 
ford  !  "  added  Burleson  triumphantly.  "  /  came  from 
Hitherford.  My  grandfather  knew  hers.  Why,  man 
alive,  Rita  Tevis  is  entitled  to  do  anything  she  chooses 
to  do." 

"  That's  one  way  of  looking  at  it,  anyway,"  ad-r 
mitted  Neville  gravely. 

"  I  look  at  it  that  way.  You  can't ;  you're  not  from 
Massachusetts ;  but  you  have  a  sort  of  a  New  England 
name,  too.  It's  Yankee,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Southern." 

"  Oh,"  said  Burleson,  honestly  depressed ;  "  I  am 
sorry.  There  were  Nevilles  in  Hitherford  Lower  Falls 
two  hundred  years  ago.  I've  always  liked  to  think  of 
you  as  originating,  somehow  or  other,  in  Massachusetts 
Bay." 

"  No,  John ;  unlike  McGinty,  I  am  unfamiliar  with 
the  cod-thronged  ocean  deeps.  .  .  .  When  are  you 
going?" 

"  Day  after  to-morrow.  Rita  says  you  don't  need 
her  any  longer  on  that  picture 

"  Lord,  man !  If  I  did  I  wouldn't  hold  you  up. 
But  don't  worry,  John ;  she  wouldn't  let  me.  .  .  .  She'? 
a  fine  specimen  of  girl,"  he  added  casually. 

490 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Do  you  suppose  that  is  news  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  I'm  sure  you  find  her  amusing " 

"What!" 

"  Amusing,"  repeated  Neville  innocently.  "  Don't 
you?  " 

"  That  is  scarcely  the  word  I  would  have  chosen, 
Kelly.  I  have  a  very  warm  admiration  and  a  very  sin 
cere  respect  for  Rita  Tevis " 

"  John !    You  sound  like  a  Puritan  making  love !  " 

Burleson  was  intensely  annoyed: 

"  You'd  better  understand,  Kelly,  that  Rita  Tevis 
is  as  well  born  as  I  am,  and  that  there  would  be  noth 
ing  at  all  incongruous  in  any  declaration  that  any 
decent  man  might  make  her ! " 

"  Why,  I  know  that." 

"  I'm  glad  you  do.  And  I'm  gratified  that  what  you 
said  has  given  me  the  opportunity  to  make  myself  very 
plain  on  the  subject  of  Rita  Tevis.  It  may  amaze  you 
to  know  that  her  great  grandsire  carried  a  flintlock 
with  the  Hitherford  Minute  Men,  and  fell  most  respect 
ably  at  Boston  Neck." 

"  Certainly,  John.  I  knew  she  was  all  right.  But 
I  wasn't  sure  you  knew  it " 

"  Confound  it !  Of  course  I  did.  I've  always 
known  it.  Do  you  think  I'd  care  for  her  so  much  if 
;she  wasn't  all  right?  " 

Neville  smiled  at  him  gravely,  then  held  out  his 
hand: 

"  Give  my  love  to  her,  John.  I'll  see  you  both  again 
before  you  go." 

For  nearly  two  weeks  he  had  not  heard  a  word  from 
Valerie  West.  Rita  and  John  Burleson  had  departed, 

493 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


cheerful,  sure  of  early  convalescence  and  a  complete  and 
radical  cure. 

Neville  went  with  them  to  the  train,  but  his  mind 
was  full  of  his  own  troubles  and  he  could  scarcely  keep 
his  attention  on  the  ponderous  conversation  of  Burlc- 
son,  who  was  admonishing  him  and  Ogilvy  impartially 
concerning  the  true  interpretation  of  creative  art. 

He  turned  aside  to  Rita  when  opportunity  offered 
and  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Before  you  go,  tell  me  where  Valerie  is." 

"  I  can't,  Kelly." 

"  Did  you  promise  her  not  to  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

He  said,  slowly :  "  I  haven't  had  one  word  from  her 
in  nearly  two  weeks.  Is  she  well?  " 

"  Yes.  She  came  into  town  this  morning  to  say 
good-bye  to  me." 

"  I  didn't  know  she  was  out  of  town,"  he  said, 
troubled. 

"  She  has  been,  and  is  now.  That's  all  I  can  tell 
you,  Kelly  dear." 

"  She  is  coming  back,  isn't  she?  " 

"  I  hope  so." 

"Don't  you  know?" 

She  looked  into  his  anxious  and  miserable  face  antf 
gently  shook  her  head: 

"  I  don't  know,  Kelly." 

"  Didn't  she  say — intimate  anything — 

"  No.  ...  I  don't  think  she  knows— yet." 

He  said,  very  quietly :  "  If  she  ever  comes  to  any 
conclusion  that  it  is  better  for  us  both  never  to  meet 
again — I  might  be  as  dead  as  Querida  for  any  work  I 
should  ever  again  set  hand  to. 

494 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  If  she  will  not  marry  me,  but  will  let  things  re 
main  as  they  are,  at  least  I  can  go  on  caring  for  her 
and  working  out  this  miserable  problem  of  life.  But  if 
she  goes  out  of  my  life,  life  will  go  out  of  me.  I  know 
that  now." 

Rita  looked  at  him  pitifully : 

"  Valerie's  mind  is  her  own,  Kelly.  It  is  the  most 
honest  mind  I  have  ever  known ;  and  nothing  on  earth — 
no  pain  that  her  decision  might  inflict  upon  her — 
would  swerve  it  a  hair's  breath  from  what  she  concludes 
is  the  right  thing  to  do." 

"  I  know  it,"  he  said,  swallowing  a  sudden  throb  of 
fear. 

"  Then  what  can  I  say  to  you?  " 

"  Nothing.     I  must  wait." 

"  Kelly,  if  you  loved  her  enough  you  would  not 
even  wait." 

"What!" 

"  Because  her  return  to  you  will  mean  only  one 
thing.  Are  you  going  to  accept  it  of  her  ?  " 

"  What  can  I  do?     I  can't  live  without  her !  " 

"  Her  problem  is  nobler,  Kelly.  She  is  asking  her 
self  not  whether  she  can  live  life  through  without  you 
— but  whether  you  can  live  life  well,  and  to  the  full, 
without  her?  " 

Neville  flushed  painfully. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  Valerie.  I'm  not  worth 
the  anxiety,  the  sorrow  that  I  have  brought  her.  I'm 
not  worth  marrying ;  and  I'm  not  worth  a  heavier  sacri 
fice.  .  .  .  I'm  trying  to  think  less  of  myself,  Rita,  and 
more  of  her.  .  .  .  Perhaps,  if  I  knew  she  were  happy, 
I  could  stand — losing  her.  ...  If  she  could  be — with 
out  me — "  He  checked  himself,  for  the  struggle  was 

495 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


unnerving  him ;  then  he  set  his  face  firmly  and  looked 
straight  at  Rita. 

"  Do  you  believe  she  could  forget  me  and  be  con 
tented  and  tranquil — if  I  gave  her  the  chance  ?  " 

"Are  you  talking  of  self-sacrifice  for  her  sake?  " 

He  drew  a  deep,  uneven  breath : 

"  I— suppose  it's— that." 

"  You  mean  that  you're  willing  to  eliminate  your 
self  and  give  her  an  opportunity  to  see  a  little  of  the 
world — a  little  of  its  order  and  tranquillity  and  quieter 
happiness? — a  chance  to  meet  interesting  women  and 
attractive  men  of  her  own  age — as  she  is  certain  to  do 
through  her  intimacy  with  the  Countess  d'Enver?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  is  what  must  be  done.  .  .  . 
I've  been  blind — and  rottenly  selfish.  I  did  not  mean 
to  be.  ...  I've  tried  to  force  her — I  have  done  nothing 
else  since  I  fell  in  love  with  her,  but  force  her  toward 
people  whom  she  has  a  perfect  right  not  to  care  for — 
even  if  they  happen  to  be  my  own  people.  She  has  felt 
nothing  but  a  steady  and  stupid  pressure  from  me; — 
heard  from  me  nothing  except  importunities — the  mer 
ciless,  obstinate  urging  of  my  own  views — which,  God 
forgive  me,  I  thought  were  the  only  views  because  they 
were  respectable !  " 

He  stood,  head  lowered,  nervously  clenching  and  un 
clenching  his  hands. 

"  It  was  not  for  her  own  sake — that's  the  worst  of 
it !  It  was  for  my  sake — because  I've  had  respectability 
inculcated  until  I  can't  conceive  of  my  doing  anything 
not  respectable.  .  .  .  Once,  something  else  got  away 
with  me — and  I  gave  it  rein  for  a  moment — until 
checked.  .  .  .  I'm  really  no  different  from  other  men." 

"  I  think  you  are  beginning  to  be,  Kelly." 
496 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Am  I  ?  I  don't  know.  But  the  worst  of  it  was  my 
selfishness — my  fixed  idea  that  her  marrying  me  was  the 
only  salvation  for  her.  ...  I  never  thought  of  giving 
her  a  chance  of  seeing  other  people — other  men — better 
men — of  seeing  a  tranquil,  well-ordered  world — of  be 
ing  in  it  and  of  it.  I  behaved  as  though  my  world — 
the  fragment  inhabited  by  my  friends  and  family — was 
the  only  alternative  to  this  one.  I've  been  a  fool,  Rita ; 
and  a  cruel  one." 

"  No,  only  an  average  man,  Kelly.  ...  If  I  give 
you  Valerie's  address,  would  you  write  and  give  her  her 
freedom — for  her  own  sake? — the  freedom  to  try  life  in 
that  well-ordered  world  we  speak  of  ?  .  .  .  Because  she 
is  very  young.  Life  is  all  before  her.  Who  can  fore 
tell  what  friends  she  may  be  destined  to  make ;  what  op 
portunities  she  may  have.  I  care  a  great  deal  for 
you,  Kelly;  but  I  love  Valerie.  .  .  .  And,  there  are 
other  men  in  the  world  after  all; — but  there  is 
only  one  Valerie.  .  .  .  And — how  truly  do  you 
love  her?  " 

"  Enough,"  he  said  under  his  breath. 

"  Enough  to — leave  her  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  write  and  tell  her  so.     Here  is  the  address." 

She  slipped  a  small  bit  of  folded  paper  into  Neville's 
hand. 

"  We  must  join  the  others,  now,"  she  said  calmly. 

Annan  had  come  up,  and  he  and  Ogilvy  were  nois 
ily  baiting  Burleson  amid  shouts  of  laughter  and  a 
protesting  roar  from  John. 

"  Stop  it,  you  wretches,"  said  Rita  amiably,  enter 
ing  the  little  group.  "  John,  are  you  never  going  to 
learn  not  to  pay  any  attention  to  this  pair  of  infants  ?  " 

497 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Are  you  going  to  kiss  me  good-bye,  Rita,  when 
the  train  departs?  "  inquired  Sam,  anxiously. 

"  Certainly ;  I  kissed  Gladys  good-bye — 

"  Before  all  this  waiting  room  full  of  people?  "  per 
sisted  Sam.  "  Are  you?  " 

"  Why  I'll  do  it  now  if  you  like,  Sammy  dear." 

"  They'll  take  you  for  my  sister,"  said  Sam,  dis 
gusted. 

"  Or  your  nurse ;  John,  what  is  that  man  bellowing 
through  the  megaphone  ?  " 

"  Our  train,"  said  Burleson,  picking  up  the  satch 
els.  He  dropped  them  again  to  shake  the  hands  that 
were  offered: 

"  Good-bye,  John,  dear  old  fellow !  You'll 
get  all  over  this  thing  in  a  jiffy  out  there. 
You'll  be  back  in  no  time  at  all!  Don't  worry,  and 
get  well !  " 

He  smiled  confidently  and  shook  all  their  hands. 
Rita's  pretty  face  was  pale;  she  let  Ogilvy  kiss  her 
cheek,  shook  hands  with  Annan,  and  then,  turning  to 
Neville,  put  both  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  kissed  him 
on  the  mouth. 

"  Give  her  her  chance,  Kelly,"  she  whispered.  .  .  . 
"  And  it  shall  be  rendered  unto  you  seven-fold." 

"  No,  Rita ;  it  never  will  be  now." 

"Who  knows?" 

"  Rita !  Rita !  "  he  said  under  his  breath,  "  where 
I  am  ending,  she  must  begin.  .  .  .  You  are  right:  the 
world  needs  her.  Try  as  I  might,  I  never  could  be 
worth  what  she  is  worth  without  effort.  It  is  my  life 
which  does  not  matter,  not  hers.  I  will  do  what  ought 
to  be  done.  Don't  be  afraid.  I  will  do  it.  And  thank 
God  that  it  is  not  too  late." 

498 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


That  night,  seated  at  his  desk  in  the  studio,  he 
looked  at  the  calendar.  It  was  the  thirteenth  day  since 
he  had  heard  from  her;  the  last  day  but  two  of  the 
fifteen  days  she  had  asked  for.  The  day  after  to-morrow 
she  would  have  come,  or  would  have  written  him  that 
she  was  renouncing  him  forever  for  his  own  sake. 
Which  might  it  have  been?  He  would  never  know  now. 

He  wrote  her: 

"  Dearest  of  women,  Rita  has  been  loyal  to  you. 
It  was  only  when  I  explained  to  her  for  what  purpose  I 
wished  your  address  that  she  wisely  gave  it  to  me. 

"  Dearest,  from  the  beginning  of  our  acquaintance 
and  afterward  when  it  ripened  into  friendship  and  finally 
became  love,  upon  you  has  rested  the  burden  of  decision ; 
and  I  have  permitted  it. 

"  Even  now,  as  I  am  writing  here  in  the  studio,  the 
burden  lies  heavily  upon  your  girl's  shoulders  and  is 
weighting  your  girl's  heart.  And  it  must  not  be  so 
any  longer. 

"  I  have  never,  perhaps,  really  meant  to  be  selfish ; 
a  man  in  love  really  doesn't  know  what  he  means. 
But  now  I  know  what  I  have  done;  and  what  must  be 
undone. 

"  You  were  perfectly  right.  It  was  for  you  to  say 
whether  you  would  marry  me  or  not.  It  was  for  you 
to  decide  whether  it  was  possible  or  impossible  for  you 
to  appear  as  my  wife  in  a  world  in  which  you  had  had 
no  experience.  It  was  for  you  to  generously  decide 
whether  a  rupture  between  that  world  and  myself — be 
tween  my  family  and  myself — would  render  me — and 
yourself — eternally  unhappy. 

"  You  were  free  to  decide ;  you  used  your  own  in- 
499 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


tellect,  and  you  so  decided.  And  I  had  no  right  to 
question  you — I  have  no  right  now.  I  shall  never  ques 
tion  you  again. 

"  Then,  because  you  loved  me,  and  because  it  was 
the  kind  of  love  that  ignored  self,  you  offered  me  a 
supreme  sacrifice.  And  I  did  not  refuse ;  I  merely  con 
tinued  to  fight  for  what  I  thought  ought  to  be — dis 
tressing,  confusing,  paining  you  with  the  stupid,  ob 
stinate  reiterations  of  my  importunities.  And  you  stood 
fast  by  your  colours. 

"  Dear,  I  was  wrong.  And  so  were  you.  Those 
were  not  the  only  alternatives.  I  allowed  them  to  appear 
so  because  of  selfishness.  .  .  .  Alas,  Valerie,  in  spite  of 
all  I  have  protested  and  professed  of  love  and  passion 
for  you,  to-day,  for  the  first  time,  have  I  really  loved 
you  enough  to  consider  you,  alone.  And  with  God's 
help  I  will  do  so  always. 

"  You  have  offered  me  two  alternatives :  to  give 
yourself  and  your  life  to  me  without  marriage;  or  to 
quietly  slip  out  of  my  life  forever. 

"  And  it  never  occurred  to  you — and  I  say,  with 
shame,  that  it  never  occurred  to  me — that  I  might 
quietly  efface  myself  and  my  demands  from  your  life; 
leave  you  free  and  at  peace  to  rest  and  develop  in  that 
new  and  quieter  world  which  your  beauty  and  goodness 
has  opened  to  you. 

"  Desirable  people  have  met  you  more  than  half-way, 
and  they  like  you.  Your  little  friend,  Helene  d'Enver, 
is  a  genuine  and  charming  woman.  Your  friendship 
for  her  will  mean  all  that  you  have  so  far  missed  in  life ; 
all  that  a  girl  is  entitled  to. 

"  Through  her  you  will  widen  the  circle  of  your 
acquaintances  and  form  newer  and  better  friendships. 

500 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


You  will  meet  men  and  women  of  your  own  age  and  your 
own  tastes  which  is  what  ought  to  happen. 

"  And  it  is  right  and  just  and  fair  that  you  enter 
into  the  beginning  of  your  future  with  a  mind  un- 
vexed  and  a  heart  untroubled  by  conflicts  which  can 
never  solve  for  you  and  me  any  future  life  together. 

"  I  do  not  believe  you  will  ever  forget  me,  or  wish 
to,  wholly.  Time  heals — otherwise  the  world  had  gone 
mad  some  centuries  ago. 

"  But  whatever  destiny  is  reserved  for  you,  I  know 
you  will  meet  it  with  the  tranquillity  and  the  sweet  cour 
age  which  you  have  always  shown. 

"  What  kind  of  future  I  wish  for  you,  I  need  not 
write  here.  You  know.  And  it  is  for  the  sake  of  that 
future — for  the  sake  of  the  girl  whose  unselfish  life  has 
at  last  taught  me  and  shamed  me,  that  I  give  you  up 
forever. 

"  Dear,  perhaps  you  had  better  not  answer  this  for 
a  long,  long  time.  Then,  when  that  clever  surgeon, 
Time,  has  effaced  all  scars — and  when  not  only  tran 
quillity  is  yours  but,  perhaps,  a  deeper  happiness  is  in 
sight,  write  and  tell  me  so.  And  the  great  god  Kelly, 
nodding  before  his  easel,  will  rouse  up  from  his  Olym 
pian  revery  and  totter  away  to  find  a  sheaf  of  blessings 
to  bestow  upon  the  finest,  truest,  and  loveliest  girl  in 
all  the  world. 

"  Haley 'onii  dies!  Fort  em  posce  animum!  Forsan 
et  haec  olim  meminisse  juvabit.  Vale! 

"  Louis  NEVILLE." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

THE  fifteenth  day  of  her  absence  had  come  and  gone 
and  there  had  been  no  word  from  her. 

Whether  or  not  he  had  permitted  himself  to  expect 
any,  the  suspense  had  been  none  the  less  almost  un 
endurable.  He  walked  the  floor  of  the  studio  all  day 
long,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  about,  insensible 
to  fatigue  or  to  anything  except  the  dull,  ceaseless  beat 
ing  of  his  heart.  He  seemed  older,  thinner — a  man  whose 
sands  were  running  very  swiftly. 

With  the  dawn  of  the  fifteenth  day  of  her  absence 
a  gray  pallor  had  come  into  his  face ;  and  it  remained 
there.  Ogilvy  and  Annan  sauntered  into  the  studio  to 
visit  him,  twice,  and  the  second  time  they  arrived  bearing 
gifts — favourite  tonics,  prescriptions,  and  pills. 

"  You  look  like  hell,  Kelly,"  observed  Sam  with  tact 
ful  and  characteristic  frankness.  "  Try  a  few  of  this 
assorted  dope.  Harry  and  I  dote  on  dope: 

"  *  After  the  bat  is  over, 

After  the  last  cent's  spent, 
And  the  pigs  have  gone  from  the  clover 

And  the  very  last  gent  has  went; 
After  the  cards  are  scattered, 

After  I've  paid  the  bill, 
Weary  and  rocky  and  battered 
I  swallow  my  liver  pill ! ' '' 
502 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


— he  sang,  waltzing  slowly  around  the  room  with  Annan 
until,  inadvertently,  they  stepped  upon  the  tail  of 
Gladys  who  went  off  like  a  pack  of  wet  fire-crackers ; 
whereupon  they  retired  in  confusion  to  their  respective 
abodes  above. 

Evening  came,  and  with  evening,  letters ;  but  none 
from  her.  And  slowly  the  stealthy  twilight  hours 
dragged  their  heavy  minutes  toward  darkness  ;  and  night 
crawled  into  the  room  like  some  sinister  living  thing, 
and  found  him  still  pacing  the  floor. 

Through  the  dusky  June  silence  far  below  in  the 
street  sounded  the  clatter  of  wheels;  but  they  never 
stopped  before  his  abode.  Voices  rose  faintly  at  mo 
ments  in  the  still  air,  borne  upward  as  from  infinite 
depths ;  but  her  voice  would  never  sound  again  for  him : 
he  knew  it  now — never  again  for  him.  And  yet  he 
paced  the  floor,  listening.  The  pain  in  his  heart  grew 
duller  at  intervals,  benumbed  by  the  tension ;  but  it 
always  returned,  sickening  him,  almost  crazing  him. 

Late  in  the  evening  he  gave  way  under  the  torture 
— turned  coward,  and  started  to  write  to  her.  Twice 
he  began  letters — pleading  with  her  to  forget  his  letter ; 
begging  her  to  come  back.  And  destroyed  them  with 
hands  that  shook  like  the  hands  of  a  sick  man.  Then 
the  dull  insensibility  to  pain  gave  him  a  little  respite. 
But  later  the  misery  and  terror  of  it  drove  him  out  into 
the  street  with  an  insane  idea  of  seeking  her — of  taking 
the  train  and  finding  her. 

He  throttled  that  impulse;  the  struggle  exhausted 
him;  and  he  returned,  listlessly,  to  the  door  and  stood 
there,  vacant-eyed,  staring  into  the  lamp-lit  street. 

Once  he  caught  sight  of  a  shadowy,  graceful  figure 
crossing  the  avenue — a  lithe  young  silhouette  against 

503 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


the  gas-light — and  his  heart  stood  still  for  an  instant : 
but  it  was  not  she,  and  he  swayed  where  he  stood,  under 
the  agony  of  reaction,  dazed  by  the  rushing  recession  of 
emotion. 

Then  a  sudden  fear  seized  him  that  she  might  have 
come  while  he  had  been  away.  He  had  been  as  far  as 
the  avenue.  Could  she  have  come? 

But  when  he  arrived  at  his  door  he  had  scarce  cour 
age  enough  to  go  in.  She  had  a  key ;  she  might  have 
entered.  Had  she  entered:  was  she  there,  behind  that 
closed  door  ?  To  go  in  and  find  the  studio  empty  seemed 
almost  more  than  he  could  endure.  But,  at  last,  he  went 
in ;  and  he  found  the  studio  empty. 

Confused,  shaken,  tortured,  he  began  again  his  aim 
less  tour  of  the  place,  ranging  the  four  walls  like  a  wild 
creature  dulled  to  insanity  by  long  imprisonment — 
passing  backward,  forward,  to  and  fro,  across,  around, 
his  footsteps  timing  the  dreadful  monotone  of  his  heart, 
his  pulse  beating,  thudding  out  his  doom. 

She  would  never  come ;  never  come  again.  She  had 
determined  what  was  best  to  do ;  she  had  arrived  at  her 
decision.  Perhaps  his  letter  had  convinced  her, — had 
cleared  her  vision; — the  letter  which  he  had  been  mad 
enough  to  write — fool  enough — God! — perhaps  brave 
enough.  .  .  .  But  if  what  he  had  done  in  his  madness  was 
bravery,  it  was  an  accursed  thing ;  and  he  set  his  teeth 
and  cursed  himself  scarce  knowing  what  he  was  saying. 

It  promised  to  be  an  endless  night  for  him;  and 
there  were  other  nights  to  come — interminable  nights. 
And  now  he  began  to  watch  the  clock — strained  eyes 
riveted  on  the  stiff  gilded  hands — and  on  the  little  one, 
jerkily,  pitilessly  recording  the  seconds  and  twitching 
them  one  by  one  into  eternity. 

504 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


Nearer  and  nearer  to  midnight  crept  the  gilded, 
flamboyant  hour-hand;  the  gaunter  minute-hand  was 
slowly  but  inexorably  overtaking  it.  Nearer,  nearer, 
they  drew  together;  then  came  the  ominous  click;  a 
moment's  suspense ;  the  high-keyed  gong  quivered  twelve 
times  under  the  impact  of  the  tiny  steel  hammer. 

And  he  never  would  hear  her  voice  again.  And  he 
dropped  to  his  knees  asking  mercy  on  them  both. 

In  his  dulled  ears  still  lingered  the  treble  ringing 
echo  of  the  bell — lingered,  reiterated,  repeated  inces 
santly,  until  he  thought  he  was  going  mad.  Then,  of 
a  sudden,  he  realised  that  the  telephone  was  ringing; 
and  he  reeled  from  his  knees  to  his  feet,  and  crept  for 
ward  into  the  shadows,  feeling  his  way  like  a  blind  man. 

"Louis?" 

But  he  could  not  utter  a  sound. 

"  Louis,  is  it  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  whispered. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  ill?  Your  voice 
is  so  strange.  Are  you?  " 

"  No !— Is  it  you,  Valerie?  " 

"  You  know  it  is  !  " 

"Where— are  you?" 

"  In  my  room — where  I  have  been  all  day." 

"  You  have  been — there!  You  have  been  here — 
in  this  city — all  this  time " 

"  I  came  in  on  the  morning  train.  I  wanted  to  be 
sure.  There  have  been  such  things  as  railroad  delays 
you  know." 

"  Why — why  didn't  you  let  me  know — 

"  Louis  !  You  will  please  to  recollect  that  I  had  until 
midnight  .  .   .  I — was     busy.     Besides,    midnight     has 
just  sounded — and  here  I  am." 
17  505 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


He  waited. 

"  I  received  your  letter."  Her  voice  had  the  sweet, 
familiar,  rising  inflection  which  seemed  to  invite  an  an 
swer. 

"  Yes,"  he  muttered,  "  I  wrote  to  you." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  what  I  thought  of  your 
letter?"  * 

"  Yes,"  he  breathed. 

"  I  will  tell  you  some  other  time ;  not  now.  .  .  . 
Have  you  been  perfectly  well,  Louis?  But  I  heard  all 
about  you,  every  day, — through  Rita.  Do  you  know 
I  am  quite  mad  to  see  that  picture  you  painted  of  her, 
— the  new  one — '  Womanhood.'  She  says  it  is  a  great 
picture — really  great.  Is  it  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer. 

"  Louis ! " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  would  like  to  see  that  picture." 

"Valerie?" 

"  Yes  ?  "  — sweetly  impatient. 

"  Are  we  to  see  each  other  again  ?  " 

She  said  calmly :  "  I  didn't  ask  to  see  you,  Louis ; 
I  asked  to  see  a  picture  which  you  recently  painted, 
called  <  Womanhood.  '  " 

He  remained  silent  and  presently  she  called  him 
again  by  name :  "  You  say  that  you  are  well 
— or  rather  Rita  said  so  two  days  ago — and  I'm 
wondering  whether  in  the  interim  you've  fallen 
ill?  Two  days  without  news  from  you  is  rather 
disquieting.  Please  tell  me  at  once  exactly  how 
you  are?  " 

He  succeeded  in  forcing  something  resembling  a 
laugh :  "  I  am  all  right,"  he  said. 

506 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  I  don't  see  how  you  could  be — after  the  letter  you 
wrote  me.     How  much  of  it  did  you  mean  ?  " 
He  was  silent. 
"  Louis  !     Answer  me !  " 
"  AU — of  it,"  he  managed  to  reply. 


"She  knelt  down  beside  the  bed  and  .  .  .  said  whatever  prayer  she 
had  in  mind." 

"  All!  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Then — perhaps  you  scarcely  expected  me  to  call 
you  up  to-night.     Did  you?  " 

507 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  No." 

"  Suppose  I  had  not  done  so.' 


He  shivered  slightly,  but  remained  mute. 

"  Answer  me,  Louis  ?  " 

"  It  would  have  been— better." 

"For  you?" 

"  For— both." 

"  Do  you  believe  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then — have  I  any  choice  except  to  say — good 
night?" 

"  No  choice.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night." 

He  crept,  shaking,  into  his  bed-room,  sat  down, 
resting  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  staring  at  vacancy. 

Valerie,  in  her  room,  hung  up  the  receiver,  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands  for  a  moment,  then  quietly  turned, 
lowering  her  hands  from  her  face,  and  looked  down  at 
the  delicate,  intimate  garments  spread  in  order  on  the 
counterpane  beside  her.  There  was  a  new  summer  gown 
there,  too — a  light,  dainty,  fragile  affair  on  which  she 
had  worked  while  away.  Beside  it  lay  a  big  summer  hat 
of  white  straw  and  white  lilacs. 

She  stood  for  a  moment,  reflecting;  then  she  knelt 
down  beside  the  bed  and  covered  her  eyes  again  while 
she  said  whatever  prayer  she  had  in  mind. 

It  was  not  a  very  short  petition,  because  it  con 
cerned  Neville.  She  asked  nothing  for  herself  except 
as  it  regarded  him  or  might  matter  to  his  peace  of 
mind.  Otherwise  what  she  said,  asked,  and  offered,  re 
lated  wholly  to  Neville. 

Presently  she  rose  and  went  lightly  and  silently 
508 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


about  her  ablutions ;  and  afterward  she  dressed  herself 
in  the  fragile  snowy  garments  ranged  so  methodically 
upon  the  white  counterpane,  each  in  its  proper  place. 

She  was  longer  over  her  hair,  letting  it  fall  in  a 
dark  lustrous  cloud  to  her  waist,  then  combing  and 
gathering  it  and  bringing  it  under  discipline. 

She  put  on  her  gown,  managing  somehow  to  fasten 
it,  her  lithe  young  body  and  slender  arms  aiding  her  to 
achieve  the  impossible  between  neck  and  shoulders. 
Afterward  she  pinned  on  her  big  white  hat. 

At  the  door  she  paused  for  a  second;  took  a  last 
look  at  the  quiet,  white  little  room  tranquil  and  silent  in 
the  lamplight ;  then  she  turned  off  the  light  and  went 
out,  softly,  holding  in  her  hands  a  key  which  fitted  no 
door  of  her  own. 

One  o'clock  sounded  heavily  from  Saint  Hilda's  as 
she  left  her  house;  the  half  hour  was  striking  as  she 
stooped  in  the  dark  hallway  outside  the  studio  and  fitted 
the  key  she  held — the  key  that  was  to  unlock  for  her 
the  mystery  of  the  world. 

He  had  not  heard  her.  She  groped  her  way  into 
the  unlighted  studio,  touched  with  caressing  finger-tips 
the  vague  familiar  shapes  that  the  starlight,  falling 
through  the  glass  above,  revealed  to  her  as  she  passed. 

In  the  little  inner  room  she  paused.  There  was  a 
light  through  the  passageway  beyond,  but  she  stood 
here  a  moment,  looking  around  her  while  memories  of 
the  place  deepened  the  colour  in  her  cheeks. 

Then  she  went  forward,  timidly,  and  stood  at  his 
closed  door,  listening. 

A  sudden  fright  seized  her;  one  hand  flew  to  her 
breast,  her  throat — covered  her  eyes  for  a  moment — 
and  fell  limp  by  her  side. 

509 


"She   was  longer  over  her  hair  .  .  .  gathering  it   and   bringing  it 
under  discipline." 

"  Louis !  "  she  faltered.      She  heard  him  spring  to 
his  feet  and  stand  as  though  transfixed. 

"  Louis,"  she  said,  "  it  is  I.     Will  you  open  your 
door  to  me?  " 

510 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


The  sudden  flood  of  electric  light  dazzled  her ;  then 
she  saw  him  standing  there,  one  hand  still  resting  on 
the  door  knob. 

"  I've  come,"  she  said,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Valerie!     My  God!" 

She  stood,  half  smiling,  half  fearful,  her  dark  eyes 
meeting  his,  two  friendly  little  hands  outstretched. 
Then,  as  his  own  caught  them,  almost  crushed  them : 

"  Oh,  it  was  your  letter  that  ended  all  for  me, 
Louis !  It  settled  every  doubt  I  had.  I  knew  then — 
you  darling ! " 

She  bent  and  touched  his  hands  with  her  lips,  then 
lifted  her  sweet,  untroubled  gaze  to  his : 

"  I  had  been  away  from  you  so  long,  so  long.  And 
the  time  was  approaching  for  me  to  decide,  and  I  didn't 
know  what  was  best  for  us,  any  more  than  when  I  went 
away.  And  then! — your  letter  came !  " 

She  shook  her  head,  slowly : 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  might  have  decided  if  you 
never  had  written  that  letter  to  me;  probably  I  would 
have  come  back  to  you  anyway.  I  think  so ;  I  can't 
think  of  my  doing  anything  else:  though  I  might  have 
decided — against  myself.  But  as  soon  as  I  read  your 
letter  I  knew,  Louis.  .  .  .  And  I  am  here." 

He  said  with  drawn  lips  quivering : 

"  Did  you  read  in  that  letter  one  single  word  of 
cowardly  appeal? — one  infamous  word  of  self?  If  you 
did,  I  wrote  in  vain." 

"  It  was  because  I  read  nothing  in  it  of  self  that  I 
made  up  my  mind,  Louis."  She  stepped  nearer.  "  Why 
are  you  so  dreadfully  pale  and  worn?  Your  face  is  so 
haggard — so  terrible " 

She  laid  one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  looking  up  at 
511 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


him;     then     she     smoothed     his     forehead     and     hair, 
lightly. 

"  As  though  I  could  ever  live  without  you,"  she 
said  under  her  breath.  Then  she  laughed,  releasing  her 
hands,  and  went  over  to  the  dresser  where  there  was  a 
mirror. 

"  I  have  come,  at  one  in  the  morning,  to  pay  you  a 
call,"  she  said,  withdrawing  the  long  pins  from  her  hat 
and  taking  it  off.  "  Later  I  should  like  a  cup  of  choc 
olate,  please.  .  .  .  Oh,  there  is  Gladys!  You  sweet 
thing !  "  she  cried  softly,  kneeling  to  embrace  the  cat 
who  came  silently  into  the  room,  tail  waving  aloft  in 
gentle  greeting. 

The  girl  lifted  Gladys  onto  the  bed  and  rolled  her 
over  into  a  fluffy  ball  and  rubbed  her  cheeks  and  her 
ears  until  her  furry  toes  curled,  and  her  loud  and  grate 
ful  purring  filled  the  room. 

Valerie,  seated  sideways  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
looked  up  at  Neville,  laughing: 

"  I  must  tell  you  about  Sam  and  Helene,"  she  said. 
"  They  are  too  funny !  Helene  was  furious  because  Sam 
wrote  her  a  letter  saying  that  he  intended  to  marry  her 
but  had  not  the  courage  to  notify  her,  personally,  of 
his  decision ;  and  Helene  was  wild,  and  wrote  him  that 
he  might  save  himself  further  trouble  in  the  matter. 
And  they've  been  telephoning  to  each  other  at  intervals 
all  day,  and  Sam  is  so  afraid  of  her  that  he  dare  not 
go  to  see  her;  and  Helene  was  in  tears  when  I  saw  her 
— and  I  think  it  was  because  she  was  afraid  Sam 
wouldn't  come  and  resume  the  quarrel  where  she  could 
manage  it  and  him  more  satisfactorily." 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed  at  the  recol 
lection,  stroking  Gladys  the  while : 

512 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  It  will  come  out  all  right,  of  course,"  she  added, 
her  eyes  full  of  laughter ;  "  she's  been  in  love  with  Sam 
ever  since  he  broke  a  Ming  jar  and  almost  died  of 
fright.  But  isn't  it  funny,  Louis  ? — the  way  people  fall 
in  love,  and  their  various  manners  of  informing  each 
other!" 

He  was  trying  to  smile,  but  the  gray  constraint  in 
his  face  made  it  only  an  effort.  Valerie  pretended  not 
to  notice  it,  and  she  ±  attled  on  gaily,  detailing  her  small 
budget  of  gossip  and  caressing  Gladys — behaving  as 
irresponsibly  and  as  capriciously  as  though  her  heart 
were  not  singing  a  ceaseless  hymn  of  happiness  too 
deep,  too  thankful  to  utter  by  word  or  look. 

"  Dear  little  Rita,"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly  and 
tenderly  solemn — "  I  saw  her  the  morning  of  the  day 
she  departed  with  John.  And  first  of  all  I  asked 
about  you  of  course — you  spoiled  thing! — and  then 
I  asked  about  John.  And  we  put  our  arms  around 
each  other  and  had  a  good,  old-fashioned  cry.  .  .  . 
But — don't  you  think  he  is  going  to  get  well, 
Louis?" 

"  Sam's  brother — Billy  Ogilvy — wrote  me  that  he 
would  always  have  to  live  in  Arizona.  He  can  live 
there.  But  the  East  would  be  death  to  him." 

"  Can't  he  ever  come  back?  "  she  asked  pitifully. 

"No,  dear." 

"  But— but  what  will  Rita  do?  " 

He  said :  "  I  think  that  will  depend  on  Rita.  I 
think  it  depends  on  her  already." 

"Why?"  she  asked,  wide-eyed.  "Do  you  believe 
that  John  cares  for  her?  " 

"  I  know  he  does.  .  .  .  And  I  haven't  much  doubt 
that  he  wants  to  marry  her." 

513 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Oh,  Louis — if  that  is  true, 
what  a  heavenly  future  for  Rita !  " 

"Heavenly?     Out  in  that  scorching  desert?" 

"  Do  you  think  she'd  care  where  she  was  ?  Kelly, 
you're  ridiculous !  " 

"  Do  you  believe  that  any  woman  could  stand  that 
for  the  rest  of  her  life,  Valerie?  " 

She  smiled,  head  lowered,  fondling  the  cat  who  had 
gone  ecstatically  to  sleep. 

She  said,  still  smiling :  "  If  a  girl  is  loved  she  en 
dures  some  things ;  if  she  loves  she  endures  more.  But 
to  a  girl  who  is  loved,  and  who  loves,  nothing  else  mat 
ters.  .  .  .  And  it  would  be  that  way  with  Rita" — she 
lifted  her  eyes — "  as  it  is  with  me." 

He  was  standing  beside  her  now;  she  made  room 
on  the  side  of  the  bed  for  him  with  a  little  gesture  of 
invitation : 

"  People  who  die  for  each  other  are  less  admirable 
than  people  who  live  for  each  other.  The  latter  re 
quires  the  higher  type  of  courage.  .  .  .  If  I  go  out  of 
your  life  I  am  like  a  dead  person  to  you — a  little  worse 
in  fact.  Besides,  I've  shown  the  white  feather  and 
run  away.  That's  a  cowardly  solution  of  a  problem, 
isn't  it?" 

"  Am  I  a  coward  if  I  decide  to  stand  back  and  give 
you  a  chance  ?  " 

"  You  haven't  decided  to  do  it,"  she  said  cheerfully, 
lifting  the  somnolent  cat  and  hugging  it. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  have,  dear." 

"Why?" 

"  You  read  my  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes  and  kissed  every  line  in  it." 

He  retained  sufficient  self-control  to  keep  his  hands 
514 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


off  her — but  that  was  all;  and  her  eyes,  which  were 
looking  into  his,  grew  serious  and  beautiful. 

"  I  love  you  so,"  she  breathed. 

"  I  love  you,  Valerie." 

"  Yes.  ...  I  know  it.  ...  I  know  you  do.  ...  " 
She  sat  musing  a  moment,  then :  "  And  I  thought 
that  I  knew  what  it  was  to  love,  before  you 
wrote  that  letter."  She  shook  her  head,  murmur 
ing  something  to  herself.  Then  the  swift  smile 
curved  her  lips  again,  she  dumped  Gladys  out 
of  her  lap  without  ceremony,  and  leaned  her 
shoulder  on  Neville's,  resting  her  cheek  lightly  against 
his: 

"  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  the  problem  of  life 
has  really  been  solved  for  us,  Louis.  I  can  scarcely 
realise  it — scarcely  understand  what  this  heavenly  re 
lief  means — this  utterly  blissful  relaxation  and  untrou 
bled  confidence.  There  isn't  anything  in  the  world  that 
can  harm  me,  now ;  is  there  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"Nor  my  soul?" 

"  It  has  always  been  beyond  danger." 

"  There  are  those  who  might  tell  me  differently." 

"  Let  them  talk.     I  know." 

"  Do  you  ? — you  darling !  "  Her  soft,  fragrant 
mouth  touched  his  cheek,  lingered,  then  she  laughed  to 
herself  for  the  very  happiness  of  living. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful  how  a  word  sometimes  shatters 
the  fixed  ideas  that  a  girl  has  arrived  at  through  prayer 
and  fasting?  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  no  real 
intelligence  can  remain  very  long  welded  to  any  one 
fixed  belief." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Valerie?"  She  rested  her 
515 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


head  on  his  shoulder  and  sat  considering,  eyes  remote; 
then  her  white  fingers  crept  into  his: 

"  We  won't  talk  about  it  now.  I  was  wrong  in  some 
ways.  You  or  common  sense — or  something — opened  my 
eyes.  .  .  .  But  we  won't  talk  about  it  now.  .  .  .  Be 
cause  there  are  still  perplexities — some  few.  .  .  .  We'll 
go  over  them  together — and  arrange  matters — some 
how." 

"What  matters?" 

But  she  placed  a  soft  hand  over  his  lips,  imposing 
silence,  and  drew  his  arm  around  her  with  a  little  sigh 
of  content. 

Presently  she  said:  "Have  you  noticed  my  gown? 
I  made  it." 

He  smiled  and  bent  forward  to  look. 

"  I  made  everything  that  I  am  wearing — except  the 
shoes  and  stockings.  But  they  are  perfectly  new.  .  .  . 
I  wanted  to  come  to  you — perfectly  new.  There 
was  a  Valerie  who  didn't  really  love  you.  She 
thought  she  did,  but  she  didn't.  ...  So  I  left  her 
behind  when  I  came — left  everything  about  her  be 
hind  me.  I  am  all  new,  Louis.  .  .  .  Are  you  afraid  to 
love  me  ?  " 

He  drew  her  closer;  she  turned,  partly,  and  put 
both  arms  around  his  neck,  and  their  lips  touched  and 
clung. 

Then,  a  little  pale,  she  drew  away  from  him,  a  vague 
smile  tremulous  on  her  lips.  The  confused  sweetness  of 
her  eyes  held  him  breathless  with  their  enchantment ;  the 
faint  fragrance  of  her  dazed  him. 

In  silence  she  bent  her  head,  remained  curbed,  mo 
tionless  for  a  few  moments,  then  slowly  lifted  her  eyes 
to  his. 

516 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  How  much  do  you  want  me,  Louis  ?  " 

"  You  know." 

"  Enough  to — give  me  up  ?  " 

His  lips  stiffened  and  refused  at  first,  then: 

"  Yes,"  they  motioned.  And  she  saw  the  word  they 
formed. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  breathed ;  "  I  only  wanted  to  hear 
you  say  it  again.  ...  I  don't  know  why  I'm  crying; — • 
do  you?  .  .  .  What  a  perfect  ninny  a  girl  can  be  when 
she  tries  to.  .  .  .  All  over  your  collar,  too.  .  .  .  And 
now  you're  what  Mr.  Mantalini  would  call  '  demned 
moist  and  unpleasant ! '  .  .  .  I — I  don't  want  to — 
s-sob — this  way !  I  do-don't  wish  to  ...  M-make 
me  stop,  Louis !  .  .  .  I'd  like  a  handkerchief — any 
thing — give  me  Gladys  and  I'll  staunch  my  tears  on 
her!" 

She  slipped  from  the  bed's  edge  to  the  floor,  and 
stood  with  her  back  toward  him.  Then  she  glanced 
sideways  at  the  mirror  to  inspect  her  nose. 

"  Thank  goodness  that  isn't  red,"  she  said  gaily. 
..."  Kelly,  I'm  hungry.  .  .  .  I've  fasted  since  dawn — 
on  this  day — because  I  wanted  to  break  bread  with  you 
on  the  first  day  of  our  new  life  together." 

He  looked  at  her,  appalled,  but  she  laughed  and 
went  into  the  studio.  There  was  a  beautiful  old  side 
board  there  always  well  stocked. 

He  turned  on  the  lights,  brought  peaches  and  mel 
ons  and  strawberries  and  milk  from  the  ice-chest,  and 
found  her  already  preparing  chocolate  over  the  electric 
grill  and  buttering  immense  slices  of  peasant  bread. 

"  It's  after  two  o'clock,"  she  said,  delighted.  "  Isn't 
this  divinely  silly?  I  wonder  if  there  happens  to  be 
any  salad  in  the  ice-chest?  " 

517 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


"  Cold  chicken,  too,"  he  nodded,  watching  her  set  the 
table. 

She  glanced  at  him  over  her  shoulder  from  time  to 
time: 

"  Louis,  are  you  going  to  enjoy  all  this?  All  of  it? 
You — somehow — don't  look  entirely  happy : 

"  I  am.  .  .  .  All  I  wanted  was  to  see  you — hear 
your  voice.  ...  I  shall  be  contented  now." 

"With  just  a  view  of  me,  and  the  sound  of  my 
voice?  " 

"  You  know  there  is — nothing  more  for  us." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  idea !  And 
don't  you  dare  struggle  and  kick  and  scream  when  I 
kiss  you.  Do  you  hear  me,  Louis?  " 

He  laughed  and  watched  her  as  she  went  swiftly  and 
gracefully  about  the  table  arrangement,  glancing  up  at 
him  from  moment  to  moment. 

"  The  idea,"  she  repeated,  indignantly.  "  I  guess 
I'll  kiss  you  when  I  choose  to.  You  are  not  in  holy  or 
ders,  are  you?  You  haven't  made  any  particular  vows, 
have  you ?  " 

"  One." 

She  halted,  looked  at  him,  then  went  on  with  her 
labours,  a  delicate  colour  flushing  face  and  neck. 

"  Where  in  the  world  is  that  salad,  Louis  ?  A 
hungry  girl  asks  you!  Don't  drive  me  to  despera 
tion— 

"  Are  we  going  to  have  coffee  ?  " 

"  No,  it  will  keep  us  awake  all  night !  I  believe  you 
are  bent  on  my  destruction."  And,  as  she  hovered  over 
the  table,  she  hummed  the  latest  popular  summer-roof 
ballad: 


518 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


" '  Stand  back!     Go  'way! 
I  can  no  longer  stay 

Although  you  are  a  Marquis  or  a  Earl! 
You  may  tempt  the  upper  classes 
With  your  villainous  demi-tasses 
But- 

Heaven  will  protect  the  Working  Girl ! ' : 

At  length  everything  was  ready.  He  had  placed 
two  chairs  opposite  one  another,  but  she  wouldn't  have 
it,  and  made  him  lug  up  a  bench,  lay  a  cushion  on  it, 
and  sit  beside  her. 

They  behaved  foolishly;  she  fed  him  strawberries 
at  intervals,  discreetly,  on  a  fork — and  otherwise. 

"  Think  of  it !  Fruit — at  three  in  the  morning, 
Louis !  I  hope  Heaven  will  protect  this  working  girl. 
.  .  .  No,  dear,  I'd  rather  not  have  any  champagne. 
.  .  .  You  forget  that  this  is  a  brand-new  girl  you're 
supping  with.  .  .  .  And,  for  reasons  of  her  own — per 
haps  as  an  example  to  you — there  is  never  again  to  be 
anything  like  that — -not  even  a  cigarette." 

"  Nonsense " 

"  Oh,  it's  on  account  of  my  voice,  not  my  morals, 
goose!  I  have  rather  a  nice  voice  you  know,  and,  if 
we  can  afford  it,  it  would  be  a  jolly  good  idea  to  have 
it  cultivated.  .  .  .  Isn't  this  melon  divine!  What  fun, 
Louis !  .  .  .  I  believe  you  are  a  little  happier.  That 
crease  between  your  eyes  has  quite  disappeared — 
There!  Don't  dare  let  it  come  back!  It  has  no  busi 
ness  there  I  tell  you.  I  know  it  hasn't — and  you  must 
trust  my  word.  Will  you  ?  " 

She  leaned  swiftly  toward  him,  placed  both  hands 
on  his  shoulders. 

519 


THE   COMMON  UAW 


"  You've  a  perfectly  new  girl  to  deal  with,"  she  said, 
looking  him  in  the  eyes ; — "  a  miracle  of  meekness  and 
patience  that  is  rather  certain  to  turn  into  a  dreadful, 
frowsy  old  hausfrau  some  day.  But  that's  the  kind  you 
wanted.  .  .  .  It's  none  of  my  doings " 

"Valerie!" 

"What?" 

"  You  darling ! — do  you  mean " 

She  closed  his  lips  with  hers. 

"  Silence,"  she  said ;  "  we  have  plenty  to  talk  over 
before  the  hour  arrives  for  me  to  be  a  door-mat.  I 
'won't  be  a  door-mat  when  I'm  trying  to  be  happy  over 
a  perfectly  good  supper!  ...  Besides  I  want  to  torture 
you  while  there's  still  time.  I  want  to  make  you  miser 
able  by  reminding  you  how  disgracefully  unmoral  we 
are,  here  in  your  studio  together  at  three  in  the  morn 
ing — '  She  stretched  out  a  slim,  white  ringless  hand, 
and  lifted  the  third  finger  for  his  inspection : 

"  Not  a  sign  of  a  ring !  Shame !  "  She  turned  her 
pretty,  daring  face  to  his,  eyes  sparkling  with  audacity : 

"  Besides,  I'm  not  going  back  to-night." 

He  said  tranquilly :  "  I  should  think  not." 

"  I  mean  it,  Kelly,  I  simply  won't  go.  And  you 
may  ring  up  the  police  and  every  ambulance  in  town — 
and  the  fire  department " 

"  I've  done  it,"  he  said,  "  but  the  fire  department 
refuses  to  put  you  out.  .  .  .  You  don't  mean  to  say 
you've  finished ! — after  fasting  all  day  like  a  little  idiot," 
he  exclaimed  as  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  pushed 
away  her  chair. 

"  I  have.  I  am  not  an  anaconda !  "  .  .  .  She  passed 
swiftly  into  the  outer  room  where  her  own  toilet  neces 
saries  were  always  ready,  and  presently  came  back, 

520 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


leisurely,  her  hands  behind  her  back,  sauntering  toward 
him  with  a  provoking  smile  edging  her  lips: 

"  You  may  retire  when  you  like,  Kelly,  and  tie  your 
red  cotton  night-cap  under  your  chin.  /  shall  sit  up 
for  the  sun.  It's  due  in  about  an  hour,  you  know." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said.  "  We'll  both  be  dead  in  the 
morning." 

"  You  offer  me  your  guest-room  ?  "  she  said  in  pre 
tence  of  surprise.  "  How  'very  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Ne 
ville.  I — ah — will  condescend  to  occupy  it — for  this 
evening  only — "  Her  eyes  brightened  into  laughter: 
"  Oh,  isn't  it  delicious,  Louis !  Isn't  it  perfectly  heav 
enly  to  know  that  we  are  utterly  and  absolutely  all  right, 
— arid  to  know  that  the  world  outside  would  be  per 
fectly  certain  that  we  are  not?  What  a  darling  you 
are !  " 

Still  holding  her  hands  behind  her  back  she  bent 
forward  and  touched  her  lips  to  his,  daintily,  fastidious 
in  the  light  contact. 

"  Where  is  that  picture  of  *  Womanhood  '  ?  "  she 
asked. 

He  drew  out  the  easel,  adjusting  the  canvas  to  the 
light,  and  rolled  a  big  chair  up  in  front  of  it. 

"  Please  sit  there,"  she  said ;  and  seated  herself  on 
the  padded  arm,  still  keeping  her  hands  behind  her 
back. 

"  Are  you  concealing  anything  from  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Never  mind.  I  want  to  look  at  your  picture," 
she  added  slowly  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  canvas. 

Minute  after  minute  she  sat  there  in  silence,  neither 
stirring  nor  offering  comment.  And  after  a  long  time 
he  moved  restlessly  in  the  depths  of  the  chair  beside  her. 

Then  she  turned  and  looked  down  at  him: 
523 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  really  great.  .  .  .  And, 
somehow,  I  am  lonely.  Take  me,  Louis." 

He  drew  her  into  his  arms.  She  lay  very  silent 
against  his  breast  for  a  while,  and  at  last  raised  her 
curiously  troubled  eyes. 

"  You  are  going  to  be  a  very,  very  great  painter, 
aren't  you,  Louis  ?  " 

He  laughed  and  kissed  her,  watching  her  face. 

"  Don't  be  too  great — so  great  that  I  shall  feel  too 
— too  lonely,"  she  whispered. 

Then  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  ring  which  he  had  given 
her — and  which  she  had  gently  put  aside.  She  was 
wearing  it  on  her  betrothal  finger. 

"  Where  did  you — find  it?  "  he  said  unsteadily. 

"  In  its  box  on  your  dresser." 

"  Do  you  realise  what  it  means  ?  " 

"  Yes.  .   .  .  And  I  am  wearing  it." 

"Valerie!" 

Her  head  nestled  closer: 

"  Because  I  am  going  to  marry  you,  Louis.  .  .  . 
You  were  right.  .  .  .  If  I  fail,  as  your  wife,  to  win  my 
way  in  your  world,  then  it  will  be  because  I  have  at 
tempted  the  impossible.  Which  is  no  crime.  .  .  .  Who 
was  it  said  '  Not  failure,  but  low  aim  is  crime  '  ?  " 

She  sighed,  nestling  closer  like  a  child  seeking  rest : 

"  I  am  not  coward  enough  to  run  away  from  you 
and  destiny.  .  .  .  And  if  I  stay,  only  two  ways  remain. 
.  .  .  And  the  lawful  is  the  better  for  us  both.  ..." 
She  laid  her  flushed  cheek  against  his :  "  Because,"  she 
said  dreamily,  "  there  is  one  thing  of  which  I  never 
thought — children.  .  .  .  And  I  don't,  perhaps,  exactly 
understand,  but  I  realise  that — such  things  have  hap 
pened  ; — and  that  it  could  happen  to — us." 

524 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


She  lay  silent  for  a  while,  her  fingers  restless  on  his 
shoulder ;  then  she  spoke  again  in  the  same  dreamy  voice 
of  a  half -awakened  child: 

"  Each  for  the  other's  sake  is  not  enough.  It  must 
be  broader,  wider,  more  generous  ...  it  must  be  for 
the  sake  of  all.  ...  I  have  learned  this.  .  .  .  We 
can  learn  it  better  together.  .  .  .  Louis,  can  you 
guess  what  I  did  the  day  your  letter  came  to  me  at 
Estwich?" 

"  What  did  you  do,  my  darling?  " 

"  I  went  to  Ashuelyn." 

"What?" 

"  Yes,  dear.  If  it  had  not  been  for  your  letter 
which  I  could  feel  against  my  breast  I  should  have  been 
frightened.  .  .  .  Because  all  your  family  were  together 
under  the  pergola.  ...  As  it  was  I  could  scarcely 
speak ;  I  gave  your  mother  the  letter,  and  when  she  had 
read  it  and  your  father  and  your  sister  had  read  it,  I 
asked  them  what  I  was  to  do. 

"  It  was  so  strange  and  still  there  under  the  pergola ; 
and  I  scarcely  knew  what  I  was  saying — and  I  didn't 
realise  that  there  were  tears  in  my  eyes — until  I  saw 
them  in  your  mother's,  too. 

"  Louis  !  Louis  !  I  wonder  if  she  can  really  ever  care 
for  me! — she  was  so  good — so  sweet  to  me.  .  .  .  And 
Mrs.  Collis  took  me  away  to  her  own  room — after  your 
father  had  shaken  hands  with  me — very  stiffly  but  I 
think  kindly — and  I  behaved  very  badly,  dear — and 
your  sister  let  me  cry — all  that  I  needed  to." 

She  said  nothing  more-  for  a  while,  resting  in  his 
arms,  dark  eyes  fixed  on  space.  Then: 

"  They  asked  me  to  remain ;  your  brother-in-law  is 
a  dear! — but  I  still  had  a  long  day  of  self-examination 

525 


THE   COMMON  LAW 


before  me.  Your  father  and  mother  walked  with  me 
to  the  gate.  Your  mother  kissed  me." 

His  eyes,  blinded  by  tears,  scarcely  saw  her;  and 
she  turned  her  head  and  smiled  at  him. 

"  What  they  said  to  me  was  very  sweet  and  patient, 
Louis.  ...  I  believe — I  sometimes  believe  that  I  may, 
in  time,  win  more  than  their  consent.  I  believe  that, 
some  day,  they  will  care  to  think  of  me  as  your  wife — 
and  think  of  me  as  such,  kindly,  without  regret  for  what 
might  have  been  if  I  had  never  known  you." 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

HELENS  D'ENVER  had  gone  back  to  the  country, 
and  Ogilvy  dared  not  pursue  her  thither. 

From  her  fastness  at  Estwich  she  defied  him  in  let 
ters,  but  every  letter  of  hers  seemed  to  leave  some  loop 
hole  open  for  further  argument,  and  Ogilvy  replied 
valiantly  from  a  perfectly  safe  distance,  vowing  that  he 
meant  to  marry  her  some  day  in  spite  of  herself  and 
threatening  to  go  up  and  tell  her  so  to  her  face,  until 
she  became  bored  to  death  waiting  for  him  to  fulfil  this 
threat. 

"  There's  a  perfectly  good  inn  here,"  she  wrote, — 
"  for  of  course,  under  the  circumstances,  you  would 
scarcely  have  the  impudence  to  expect  the  hospitality 
of  my  own  roof.  But  if  you  are  determined  to  have  a 
final  '  No  '  for  your  answer,  I  am  entirely  competent 
to  give  it  to  you  by  word  of  mouth — 

"  And  such  a  distractingly,  lovely  mouth,"  sighed 
Ogilvy,  perusing  the  letter  in  his  studio.  He  whistled 
a  slow  waltz,  thoughtfully,  and  as  slowly  and  solemnly 
kept  step  to  it,  turning  round  and  round,  buried  in 
deepest  reflection.  Pie  had  a  habit  of  doing  this  when 
profoundly  perplexed. 

•   Annan  discovered  him  waltzing  mournfully  all  by 
himself : 

"  What's  up  ?  "  he  inquired  cheerfully. 

"  It's  all  up,  I  suppose." 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"With  you  and  your  countess?" 

"  Yes,  Harry." 

"  Rot !    Why  don't  you  go  and  talk  to  her?  " 

"  Because  if  I  remain  invisible  she  might  possibly 
forget  my  face.  I  stand  a  better  chance  by  letter, 
Harry." 

"  Now  you're  not  bad-looking,"  insisted  Annan, 
kindly.  u  And  besides,  a  man's  face  doesn't  count  with 
a  girl.  Half  of  'em  are  neurotics,  anyway,  and  they 
adore  the  bizarre 

"  Damn  it,"  snapped  Sam,  "  do  you  mean  that  my 
countenance  resembles  a  gargoyle?  If  you  do,  say  so 
in  English." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  said  Annan  soothingly, — "  I've  seen 
more  awful  mugs — married  mugs,  too.  What  woman 
has  done  woman  may  do  again.  Buck  up !  Beauty  and 
the  beast  is  no  idle  jest — 

"  I'll  punch  you  good  and  plenty,"  began  Sam 
wrathfully,  but  Annan  fled,  weak  with  laughter. 

"  There's  no  vainer  man  than  an  ugly  one ! "  he 
called  back,  and  slammed  the  door  to  escape  a  flight  of 
paint  brushes  hurled  by  a  maddened  man. 

"I'll  go!  By  jinks,  I'll  go,  anyway!"  he  ex 
claimed  ;  "  and  I  don't  care  what  she  thinks  of  my  face 
.  .  .  only  I  think  I'll  take  Annan  with  me — just  for 
company — or — dummy  bridge  on  the  way  up.  .  .  . 
Harry  !  "  he  shouted. 

Annan  cautiously  appeared,  ready  for  rapid  flight. 

"  Aw  come  on  in !  My  face  suits  me.  Besides, 
thank  Heaven  I've  got  a  reputation  back  of  it;  but 
your's  breaks  the  speed  laws.  Will  you  go  up  there 
with  me — like  a  man  ?  " 

"Where?" 

528 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"To  Estwich?" 

"  When?  "  inquired  Annan,  sceptically. 

"Now!— b'  jinks!" 

"  Have  you  sufficient  nerve,  this  time  ?  " 

"  Watch  me." 

And  he  dragged  out  a  suit-case  and  began  wildly 
throwing  articles  of  toilet  and  apparel  into  it. 

"  Come  on,  Harry !  "  he  shouted,  hurling  a  pair  of 
tennis  shoes  at  the  suit-case ;  "  I've  got  to  go  while  I'm 
excited  or  I'll  never  budge !  " 

But  when,  ten  minutes  later,  Annan  arrived,  suit 
case  in  hand,  ready  for  love's  journey,  he  could  scarcely 
contrive  to  kick  and  drag  Sam  into  the  elevator,  and, 
later,  into  a  taxicab. 

Ogilvy  sat  there  alternately  shivering  and  attempting 
to  invent  imperative  engagements  in  town  which  he  had 
just  remembered,  but  Annan  said  angrily: 

"  No,  you  don't.  This  makes  the  seventh  time  I've 
started  with  you  for  Estwich,  and  I'm  going  to  put  it 
through  or  perish  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict  with  you." 

And  he  started  for  the  train,  dragging  Sam  with 
him,  talking  angrily  all  the  time. 

He  talked  all  the  way  to  Estwich,  too,  partly  to  re 
assure  Ogilvy  and  give  him  no  time  for  terrified  reflec 
tion,  partly  because  he  liked  to  talk.  And  when  they 
arrived  at  the  Estwich  Arms  he  shoved  Ogilvy  into  a 
room,  locked  the  door,  and  went  away  to  telephone  to 
the  Countess  d'Enver. 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  inquired  sweetly,  "  who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Me,"  replied  Annan,  regardless  of  an  unpopular 
grammatical  convention.  "  I'm  here  with  Ogilvy.  May 
we  come  to  tea  ?  " 

"  Is  Mr.  Ogilvy  here?  " 
529 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


"  Yes,  here  at  the  Estwich  Arms.  May  I — er — 
may  he  bring  me  over  to  call  on  you  ?  " 

"  Y-yes.  Oh,  with  pleasure,  Mr.  Annan.  .  .  . 
When  may  I  expect  hi — you  ?  " 

"  In  about  ten  minutes,"  replied  Annan  firmly. 

Then  he  went  back  and  looked  into  Ogilvy's  room. 
Sam  was  seated,  his  head  clasped  in  his  hands. 

"  I  thought  you  might  tear  up  your  sheets  and  let 
yourself  out  of  the  window,"  said  Annan  sarcastically. 
"  You're  a  fine  specimen !  Why  you're  actually  lantern- 
jawed  with  fright.  But  I  don't  care!  Come  on;  we're 
expected  to  tea  !  Get  into  your  white  flannels  and  pretty 
blue  coat  and  put  on  your  dinkey  rah-rah,  and  follow 
me.  Or,  by  heaven ! — I'll  do  murder  right  now !  " 

Ogilvy's  knees  wavered  as  they  entered  the  gateway. 

"  Go  on  !  "  hissed  Annan,  giving  him  a  violent  shove. 

Then,  to  Ogilvy,  came  that  desperate  and  hysterical 
courage  that  comes  to  those  whose  terrors  have  at  last 
infuriated  them. 

"By  jinks!"  he  said  with  an  unearthly  smile,  "I 
will  come  on  !  " 

And  he  did,  straight  through  the  door  and  into  the 
pretty  living  room  where  Helene  d'Enver  rose  in  some 
slight  consternation  to  receive  this  astonishingly  pale 
and  rather  desperate-faced  young  man. 

"  Harry,"  said  Ogilvy,  calmly  retaining  Helene's 
hand,  "you  go  and  play  around  the  yard  for  a  few 
moments.  I  have  something  to  tell  the  Countess  d'En 
ver;  and  then  we'll  all  have  tea." 

"  Mr.  Ogilvy !  "  she  said,  amazed. 

But  Annan  had  already  vanished;  and  she  looked 
into  a  pair  of  steady  eyes  that  suddenly  made  her  quail. 

"  Helene,"  he  said,  "  I  really  do  love  you." 
530 


"'I  am  scared  blue.    That's  why  I'm  holding  on  to  your  hand  so 
desperately.'" 

"  Please " 

"  No !     I  love  you !     Are  you  going  to  let  me  ?  " 
"  I — how  on  earth — what  a  perfectly  senseless — 
"  I  know  it.     I'm  half  senseless  from  fright.     Yes, 
I  am,  Helene!     Now!  here!  at  this  very  minute,  I  am 

531 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


scared  blue.  That's  why  I'm  holding  on  to  your  hand 
so  desperately ;  I'm  afraid  to  let  go." 

She  flushed  brightly  with  annoyance,  or  something 
or  other — but  he  held  fast  to  her  hand  and  put  one 
arm  around  her  waist. 

"  Sam !  "  she  said,  exasperated.  That  was  the  last 
perfectly  coherent  word  she  uttered  for  several  min 
utes.  And,  later,  she  was  too  busy  to  say  very  much. 

When  Annan  returned,  Helene  rose  from  the  couch 
where  she  and  Ogilvy  had  been  seated  and  came  across 
the  floor,  blushing  vividly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  on  earth  you  think  of  me, 
Mr.  Annan,  and  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  learn 
to  endure  the  consequences  of  Mr.  Ogilvy's  eccen 
tricities — 

"  Oh,  I'm  terribly  glad !  "  said  Annan,  grinning, 
and  taking  her  hand  in  both  of  his. 

They  had  tea  on  the  veranda.  Ogilvy  was  too  ex 
cited  and  far  too  happy  to  be  dignified,  and  Helene  was 
so  much  embarrassed  by  his  behaviour  and  so  much  in 
love  that  she  made  a  distractingly  pretty  picture  be 
tween  the  two  young  men  who,  as  Rita  had  said,  would 
never,  never  be  old  enough  to  grow  up. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Helene,  "  that  your  friends 
the  Nevilles  have  recently  been  very  nice  to  me?  They 
have  called,  and  have  returned  my  call,  and  have  asked 
me  to  dinner.  I  suppose  cordiality  takes  longer  to  ar 
rive  at  maturity  in  New  York  State  than  in  any  other 
part  of  the  Union.  But  when  New  York  people  make 
up  their  minds  to  be  agreeable,  they  certainly  are  de 
lightful." 

"  They're  a  bunch  of  snobs,"  said  Ogilvy,  calmly. 
532 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


"  Oh ! "  said  Helene  with  a  distressed  glance  at 
Annan. 

"  He's  one,  too,"  observed  her  affianced,  coolly  nod 
ding  toward  Annan.  "  We're  a  sickening  lot,  Helene 
— until  some  charming  and  genuine  person  like  you 
comes  along  to  jounce  us  out  of  our  smiling  and  im 
becile  self-absorption." 

"  I,"  said  Annan  gravely,  "  am  probably  the 
most  frightful  snob  that  ever  wandered,  in  a  moment 
of  temporary  aberration,  north  of  lower  Fifth  Av 
enue." 

"  I'm  worse,"  observed  Sam  gloomily.  "  Help  us, 
Helene,  toward  loftier  aspirations.  Be  our  little  uplift 
girl- 

"  You  silly  things !  "  she  said  indignantly. 

Later  two  riders  passed  the  house,  Cameron  and 
Stephanie  Swift,  who  saluted  Helene  most  cordially,  and 
waved  airy  recognition  to  the  two  men. 

"  More  snobs,"  commented  Sam. 

"  They  are  very  delightful  people !  "  retorted  He 
lene  hotly. 

"  Most  snobs  are  when  they  like  you." 

"  Sam !    I  won't  have  you  express  such  sentiments !  " 

He  bent  nearer  to  her: 

"  Dearest,  I  never  had  any  sentiments  except  for 
you.  And  only  the  inconvenient  propinquity  of  that 
man  Annan  prevents  me  from  expressing  them." 

"  Please,  Sam " 

"  Don't  be  afraid ;  I  won't.  He  wouldn't  care ; — 
but  I  won't.  .  .  .  Hello !  Why  look  who's  here !  "  he 
exclaimed,  rising.  "  Why  it's  the  great  god  Kelly  and 
little  Sunshine !  " — as  Neville  and  Valerie  sprang  out  of 
Mrs.  Collis's  touring  car  and  came  up  the  walk. 

533 


THE    COMMON   LAW 


Helene  went  forward  to  meet  them,  putting  one  arm 
around  Valerie  and  holding  out  the  other  to  Neville. 

"When  did  you  arrive,  darling?"  she  exclaimed. 
"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Neville?  Valerie,  child,  I'm 
perfectly  enchanted  to  see  you.  But  where  in  the  world 
are  you  stopping?  " 

"  At  Ashuelyn,"  said  the  girl,  looking  straight  into 
Helene's  eyes.  A  faint  flash  of  telepathy  passed  be 
tween  them ;  then,  slowly,  Helene  turned  and  looked  at 
Neville. 

"  Will  you  wish  us  happiness  ?  "  he  said,  smiling. 

"Oh-h,"  whispered  Helene  under  her  breath— "  I 
do — I  do — God  knows.  I  wish  you  everything  that 
makes  for  happiness  in  all  the  world !  "  she  stammered, 
for  the  wonder  of  it  was  still  on  her. 

Then  Sam's  voice  sounded  close  at  hand: 

"  Why,"  he  said  admiringly,  "  it  looks  like  lovey 
and  dovey !  " 

"  It  is,"  said  Valerie,  laughing. 

"You!— and  Kelly!" 

"  We  two." 

Sam  in  his  excitement  became  a  little  wild  and  in 
congruous  : 

{ '  My  wife's  gone  to  the  country! 
Hooray!     Hooray!  ' ' 

he  shouted,  holding  hands  with  Annan  and  swinging 
back  and  forth. 

"  Sam !  "  exclaimed  Helene,  mortified. 

"Darling? — oh,  gee!  I  forgot  what  is  due  to  de 
corum  !  Please,  please  forgive  me,  Helene !  And  kindly 
inform  these  ladies  and  gentlemen  that  you  have  con- 

534 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


sented  to  render  me  eternally  and  supremely  happy; 
because  if  I  tried  to  express  to  them  that  delirious  fact 
I'd  end  by  standing  on  my  head  in  the  grass — 

"  You  dear !  "  whispered  Valerie,  holding  tightly  to 
Helene's  hands. 

"  Isn't  it  dreadful  ?  "  murmured  Helene,  turning  her 
blue  eyes  on  the  man  who  never  would  grow  old  enough 
to  grow  up.  "  I  had  no  such  intention,  I  can  assure 
you;  and  I  don't  even  understand  myself  yet." 

"Don't  you?"  said  Valerie,  laughing  tenderly; — 
"  then  you  are  like  all  other  women.  What  is  the  use 
of  our  ever  trying  to  understand  ourselves  ?  " 

Helene  laughed,  too: 

"  No  use,  dear.  Leave  it  to  men  who  say  they  ua- 
derstand  us.  It's  a  mercy  somebody  does." 

"  Isn't  it,"  nodded  Valerie ;  and  they  kissed  each 
other,  laughing. 

"  My  goodness,  it's  like  the  embrace  of  the  two 
augurs  !  "  said  Ogilvy.  "  They're  laughing  at  us,  Kelly ! 
— at  you,  and  me  and  Harry ! — and  at  man  in  general ! 
— innocent  man ! — so  charmingly  and  guilelessly  sym 
bolised  by  us  !  Stop  it,  Helene !  You  make  me  shiver. 
You'll  frighten  Annan  so  that  he'll  never  marry  if  you 
and  Valerie  laugh  that  way  at  each  other." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Helene,  quieting  him  with  a  fair 
hand  laid  lightly  on  his  sleeve,  "  whether  you  all  would 
remain  and  dine  with  me  this  evening — just  as  you 
are  I  mean  ; — and  I  won't  dress " 

"  I  insist  proh  pudeur"  muttered  Sam.  "  I  can't 
countenance  any  such  saturnalia " 

"  Oh,  Sam,  do  be  quiet,  dear — "  She  caught  herself 
up  with  a  blush,  and  everybody  smiled. 

"  What  do  we  care !  "  said  Sam.  "  I'm  tired  of  con- 
535 


THE   COMMON   LAW 


vention  !  If  I  want  to  call  you  darling  in  public,  b'jinks ! 
I  will!  Darling — darling — darling — there! " 

"  Sam !  " 

"  Dearest " 

"  Sam!  " 

"Ma'am?" 

Helene  looked  at  Valerie : 

"  There's  no  use,"  she  sighed,  "  is  there?  " 

"  No  use,"  sighed  Valerie,  smiling  at  the  man  she 
loved. 


(5) 


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should  possess. 

THE    LIGHT  THAT   LURES.    By  Percy  Brebner, 
Illustrated.     Handsomely  colored  wrapper. 

A  young  Southerner  who  loved  Lafayette,  goes  to  France  to 
aid  him  during  the  days  of  terror,  and  is  lured  in  a  certain  direction 
by  the  lovely  eyes  of  a  Frenchwoman. 

THE  RAMRODDERS.        By  Holman  Day.       Frontispiece  by 
Harold  Matthews  Brett. 

A  clever,  timely  story  that  will  make  politicians  think  and  willf 
make  women  realize  the  part  that  politics  play— even  in  theiil 
romances. 

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The  Master's  Violin 


By  MYRTLE  REED 


BY 
MYRTLE  REED 


A  Love  Story^  with  a  musical  at 
mosphere.  A  picturesque,  old 
German  virtuoso  is  the  rever 
ent  possessor  of  a  genuine  Cre 
mona.  He  consents  to  take  as 
his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who 
proves  to  have  an  aptitude  for 
technique,  but  not  the  soul  of 
the  artist.  The  youth  has  led  the 
happy,  careless  life  of  a  modern, 
well-to-do  young  American,  and 
he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past, 
express  the  love,  the  longing,  the  passion  and  the  trage 
dies  of  life  and  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master  who 
has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into 
his  existence,  a  beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that 
his  aunt  had  taken  into  her  heart  and  home ;  and  through 
his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns  the  lessons  that  life 
has  to  give — and  his  soul  awakens. 

Founded  on  a  fact  well  known  among  artists,  but  not 
often  recognized  or  discussed.^ 


If  you  have  not  read  "LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE"  by  the 
same  author,  you  have  a  double  pleasure  in  store — for 
these  two  books  show  Myrtle  Reed  in  her  most  delightful, 
fascinating  vein — indeed  they  may  be  considered  as  mas 
terpieces  of  compelling  interest. 

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The  Prodigal  Judge 


By  VAUGHAN  KESTER 

This  great  novel — probably  the  most  popular  book  in 
this  country  to-day — is  as  human  as  a  story  from  the  pen 
of  that  great  master  of  ' '  immortal  laughter  and  immortal 
tears,"  Charles  Dickens. 

The  Prodigal  Judge  is  a  shabby  outcast,  a  tavern  hang 
er-on,  a  genial  wayfarer  who  tarries  longest  where  the  inn 
is  most  hospitable,  yet  with  that  suavity,  that  distinctive 
politeness  and  that  saving  grace  of  humor  peculiar  to  the 
American  man.  He  has  his  own  code  of  morals — very 
exalted  ones — but  honors  them  in  the  breach  rather  than 
in  the  observance. 

Clinging  to  the  Judge  closer  than  a  brother,  is  Solomon 
Mahaffy — fallible  and  failing  like  the  rest  of  us,  but  with 
a  sublime  capacity  for  friendship;  and  closer  still,  perhaps, 
clings  little  Hannibal,  a  boy  about  whose  parentage 
nothing  is  known  until  the  end  of  the  story.  Hannibal 
is  charmed  into  tolerance  of  the  Judge's  picturesque 
vices,  while  Miss  Betty,  lovely  and  capricious,  is  charmed 
into  placing  all  her  affairs,  both  material  and  sentimental, 
in  the  hands  of  this  delightful  old  vagabond. 

The  Judge  will  be  a  fixed  star  in   the  firmament  of 

fictional   characters  as  surely  as  David  Harum  or  Col. 

Sellers.     He  is  a  source  of  infinite  delight,  while  this  story 

of   Mr.  Kester'  s  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  Ameri- 

Jcan  literary  craftmanship. 

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A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET   &   DUNLAP'S 
Great  Books  at  Little  Prices 

BRUVVER  JIM'S  BABY.     By  Philip  Verrill  Mighels. 

An  uproariously  funny  story  of  a  tiny  mining  settlement  in  the 
West,  which  is  shaken  to  the  very  roots  by  the  suddenpossession 
of  a  baby,  found  on  the  plains  by  one  of  its  residents.  The  town  is 
as  disreputable  a  spot  as  the  gold  fever  was  ever  responsible  for, 
and  the  coming  of  that  baby  causes  the  upheaval  of  every  rooted 
tradition  of  the  place.  Its  christening,  the  problems  of  its  toys  and 
its  illness  supersede  in  the  minds  of  the  miners  all  thought  of  earthy 
treasure. 

THE  FURNACE  OF  GOLD.  By  Philip  Verrill  Mighels, 
author  of  "Bruvver  Jim's  Baby."  Illustrations  by  J.  **. 
Marcharid. 

An  accurate  and  informing  portrayal  of  scenes,  types,  and  con«i- 
tions  of  the  mining  districts  in  modern  Nevada. 

The  book  is  an  out-door  story,  clean,  exciting,  exemplifying  no 
bility  and  courage  of  character,  and  bravery,  and  heroism  in  the  sort 
of  men  and  women  we  all  admire  and  wish  to  know. 
THE  MESSAGE.    By  Louis  Tracy.  Illustrations  by  Joseph 
C.  Chase. 

A  breezy  tale  of  how  a  bit  of  old  parchment,  concealed  in  a  figure- 
head  from  a  sunken  vessel,  comes  into  the  possession  of  a  pretty 
girl  and  an  army  man  during  regatta  week  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
This  is  the  message  and  it  enfolds  a  mystery,  the  development  of 
which  the  reader  will  follow  with  breathless  interest. 

THE  SCARLET  EMPIRE.  By  David  M.  Parry.  Illus- 
trations  by  Hermann  C.  Wall. 

A  young  socialist,  weary  of  life,  plunges  into  the  sea  and  awakes 
in  the  lost  island  of  Atlantis,  known  as  the  Scarlet  Empire,  where 
a  social  democracy  is  in  full  operation,  granting  every  man  a  living 
but  limiting  food,  conversation,  education  and  marriage. 

The  hero  passes  through  an  enthralling  love  affair  and  other  ad« 
ventures  but  finally  returns  to  his  own  New  York  world. 
THE  THIRD  DEGREE.    By  Charles   Klein  and  Arthur 
Hornblow.     Illustrations  by  Clarence  Rowe. 

A  novel  which  exposes  the  abuses  in  this  country  of  the  police 
system. 

The  son  of  an  aristocratic  New  York  family  marries  a  woman 
socially  beneath  him,  but  of  strong,  womanly  qualities  <  that,  later 
on,  save  the  man  from  the  tragic  consequences  of  a  dissipated  life 

The  wife  believes  in  his  innocence  and  her  wit  and  good  sens* 
help  her  to  win  against  the  tremendous  odds  imposed  by  law. 

THE  THIRTEENTH  DISTRICT.  By  Brand  Whitlock 
A  realistic  western  story  of  love  and  politics  and  a  searching  study 
of  their  influence  on  character.  The  author  shows  with  extraordi- 
$  »ry  vitality  of  treatment  the  tricks,  the  heat,  the  passion,  tb«.  tu- 
Mult  of  the  political  arena  the  triumph  and  strength  of  love, 

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A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 
Great  Books  at  Little  Prices 

WHEN  A  MAN  MARRIES.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rinehart 
Illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher  and  Mayo  Bunker. 

A  young  artist,  whose  wife  had  recently  divorced  him,  finds  that; 
a  visit  is  due  from  his  Aunt  Selina,  an  elderly  lady  having  ideas 
about  things  quite  apart  from  the  Bohemian  set  in  which  hei 
nephew  is  a  shining  light.  The  way  in  which  matters  are  tempo 
rarily  adjusted  forms  the  motif  of  the  story. 

A  farcical  extravaganza,  dramatized  under  the  title  of  "Seven  Days' 
THE  FASHIONABLE   ADVENTURES   OF  JOSHUA 
CRAIG.    By  David  Graham  Phillips,     Illustrated. 

A  young  westerner,  uncouth  and  unconventional,  appears  ir 
political  and  social  life  in  Washington.  He  attains  power  in  poll 
tics,  and  a  young  woman  of  the  exclusive  set  becomes  his  wife,  un 
dertaking  his  education  in  social  amenities. 
"DOC."  GORDON.  By  Mary  E.  Wilkins-Freeman.  Illu* 
trated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Against  the  familiar  background  of  American  town  life,  the 
author  portrays  a  group  of  people  strangely  involved  in  a  mystery, 
44  Doc.  Gordon,  the  one  physician  of  the  place,  Dr.  Elliot,  hia 
assistant,  a  beautiful  woman  and  her  altogether  charming  daughtei 
are  all  involved  in  the  plot.  A  novel  of  great  interest. 
HOLY  ORDERS.  By  Marie  Corelli. 

A  dramatic  story,  in  which  is  pictured  a  clergyman  in  touch  witfc 
Society  people,  stage  favorites,  simple  village  folk,  powerful  finan« 
ciers  and  others,  each  presenting  vital  problems  to  this  man  "in 
koly  orders  "—problems  that  we  are  now  struggling  with  in  America 
KATRINE.  By  Elinor  Macartney  Lane.  With  frontispiece. 

Katrine,  the  heroine  of  this  story,  is  a  lovely  Irish  girl,  of  lowlj 
birth,  but  gifted  with  a  beautiful  voice. 

The  narrative  is  based  on  the  facts  of  an  ?7tual  singer's  career, 
and  the  viewpoint  throughout  is  a  most  exalted  one. 
THE   FORTUNES    OF  FIFI.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seaweli 
Illustrated  by  T.  de  Thulstrup. 

A.  story  of  life  in  France  at  the  time  o£  t.he  first  Napoleon.    FifL 
a  glad,  mad  little  actress  of  eighteen,  is  the  star  performer  in  a  third 
rate  Parisian  theatre.    A  story  «ts  dainty  as  a  Watteau  painting. 
SHE  THAT   HESITATES.    By  Harris  Dickson.    Iflufr 
trated  by  C.  W.  Relyea. 

The  scene  of  this  dashing  romance  shifts  from  Dresden  to  St. 
Petersburg  in  the  reign  of  Peter  the  Great,  and  then  to  New  Orleans, 

The  hero  is  a  French  Soldier  of  Fortune,  and  the  princess,  who 
hesitates — but  you  must  read  the  story  to  know  how  she  that  hesitates 
may  be  lost  and  yet  saved. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


GROSSET  &    DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED  NOVELS 

Original,  sincere  and  courageous — often  amusing — the 
kind  that  are  making  theatrical  history. 

MADAME  X.     By  Alexandre  Bisson  and  J.  W.  McCon- 

aughy.      Illustrated    with    scenes    from    the    playc 
A  beautiful  Parisienne  became  an  outcast  because  her  hus 
band  would  not  forgive  an  error  of  her  youth.    Her  love  for 
<ier  son  is  the  great  final  influence  in  her  career.    A  tremen 
dous  dramatic  success. 

THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.     By  Robert  Hichens. 

An  unconventional  English  woman  and  an  inscrutable 
stranger  meet  and  love  in  an  oasis  of  the  Sahara.  Staged 
this  season  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 

THE  PRINCE  OF  INDIA.    By  Lew.  Wallace. 

A  glowing  romance  of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  presenting 
with  extraordinary  power  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  ana 
lighting  its  tragedy  with  the  warm  underglow  of  an  Oriental 
romance.  As  a  play  it  is  a  great  dramatic  spectacle. 

TESS   OF    THE    STORM    COUNTRY.      By  Grace 
Miller  White.     Illust.  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
A  girl  from  the  dregs  of  society,  loves  a  young  Cornell  Uni 
versity  student,  and  it  works  startling  changes  in  her  life  and 
the  lives  of  those  about  her.    The  dramatic  version  is  one  of 
the  sensations  of  the  season. 

YOUNG    WALLINGFORD.      By  George    Randolph 

Chester.     Illust.  by  F.  R.  Gruger  and  Henry  Raleigh. 

A  series  of  clever  swindles  conducted  by  a  cheerful  young 

tfian,  each  of  which  is  just  on  the  safe  side  of  a  State's  prison 

offence.    As  "Get-Rich-Quick  Wallingford,"  it  is  probably 

the  most  amusing  expose  of  money  manipulation  ever  seen 

on  the  stage. 

THE  INTRUSION   OF  JIMMY.    By  P.  G.  Wode ' 

house.     Illustrations  by  Will  Grefe. 
Social  and  club  life  in  London  and  New  York,  an  amateur 
burglary  adventure  and  a  love  story.     Dramatized  under  the 
title   of  "A   Gentleman  of   Leisure,"  it  furnishes  hours  of 
laughter  to  the  play-goers. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


B,  M.  Bower's  Novels 

Thrilling  Western  Romances 

Large  12  mos.  Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.      Illustrated 

CHIP,  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

A  breezy  wholesome  tale,  wherein  the  love  affairs  of  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told.  Chip's 
jealousy  of  Dr.  Cecil  Grantham,  who  turns  out  to  be  a  big.  blue 
eyed  young  woman  is  very  amusing.  A  clever,  realistic  story  of 
the  American  Cow-puncher. 
THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 

A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with  the  adventures  of 
eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys.     Foremoist  amongst 
them,  we  find  Ananias  Green,  known  as  Andy,  whose  imaginative 
powers  cause  many  lively  and  exciting  adventures. 
HER   PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

A  realistic  story  of  the  plains,  describing  r  gay  party  of  Eas 
terners  who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  the  rough  homeli 
ness  of  a  Montana  ranch-house.  The  merry-hearted  cowboys,  the 
fascinating  Beatrice,  and  the  effusive  Sir  Redmond,  become  living, 
breathing  personalities. 
THE  RANGE  DWELLERS 

Here  are  everyday,  genuine  cowboys,  just  as  they  really  exist. 
Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  between  two  families,  and  a  Romeo 
and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright,  jolly,  entertaining  story, 
without  a  dull  page. 
THE    LURE  OF  DIM  TRAILS 

A  vivid  portrayal  of  the  experience  of  an  Eastern  author, 
among  the  cowboys  of  the  West,  in  search  of  "local  color"  for  a 
new  novel.  "Bud' '  Thurston  learns  many  a  lesson  while  following 
"the  lure  of  the  dim  trails"  but  the  hardest,  and  probably  the  most 
welcome,  is  that  of  love. 

THE   LONESOME   TRAIL 

"Weary"  Davidson  leaves  the  ranch  for  Portland,  where  con 
ventional  city  life  palls  on  him.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush, 
pungent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  prairie,  and  the  recollection  of 
a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  soon  compel  his  return.  A  wholesome 
love  story, 

THE  LONG  SHADOW 

A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  with*  the  free,  outdoor, 
life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  Its  scenes  shift  rapidly  and  its  actors  play 
the  game  of  life  fearlessly  and  like  men.  It  is  a  fine  love  story  from 
start  to  finish. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 

GEORGE  BARRjMcCUTCHEON 

GRAUSTARK. 

A  story  of  love  behind  a  throne,  telling  how  a  young 
American  met  a  lovely  girl  and  followed  her  to  a  new  and 
strange  country.    A  thrilling,  dashing  narrative. 
BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK. 

Beverly  is  a  bewitching  American  £irl  who  has  gone  to 
lhat  stirring  little  principality — Graustark — to  visit  her  friend 
the  princess,  and  there  has  a  romantic  affair  of  her  own. 
BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS. 

A  young  man  is  required  to  spend  one  million  dollars  in 
one  year  in  order  to  inherit  seven.    How  he  does  it  forms  the 
basis  of  a  lively  story. 
CASTLE  CRANEYCROW. 

The  story  \  evolves  round  the  abduction  of  a  young  Amer 
ican  woman,  her  imprisonment  in  an  old  castle  and  the  adven 
tures  created  through  her  rescue. 
COWARDICE  COURT. 

An  amusing  social  feud  in  the  Adirondacks  in  which  an 
English  girl  is  tempted  into  being  a  traitor  by  a  romantic 
young  American,  forms  the  plot. 
THE  DAUGHTER  OF  ANDERSON  CROW. 

The  story  centers  about  the  adopted  daughter  of  the  town 
mnrshal  in  a  western  village.     Her  parentage  is  shrouded  ID 
mystery,  and  the  story  concerns  the  secret  that  deviously 
works  to  the  surface. 
THE  MAN  FROM  BRODNEY'S. 

The  hero  meets  a  princess  in  a  far-away  island  among 
fanatically  hostile  Musselmen.     Romantic  love  making  amid 
amusing  situations  and  exciting  adventures. 
NEDRA. 

A  young  couple  elope  from  Chicago  to  go  to   London 
traveling  as  brother  and  sister.    They  are  shipwrecked  and  a 
Strange  mix-up  occurs  on  account  of  it. 
THE  SHERRODS. 

The  scene  is  the  Middle  West  and  centers  around  a  mac. 
who  leads  a  double  life.    A  most  enthralling  novel. 
TRUXTON  KING. 

A  handsome  good  natured  young  fellow  ranges  on  the 
earth  looking  for  romantic  adventures  and  is  finally  enmeshed 
in  most  complicated  intrigues  in  Graustark. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

STEWART    EDWARD   WHITE 


THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME.  Illustrated  by  Lajaren  A.  Hillei 

The  romance  of  the  son  of  "The  Riverman."  The  young  college 
hero  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "graft"  and  comes 
into  the  romance  of  his  life. 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS.  Illus.  and  cover  inlay  by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 

A  series  of  spirited  tales  emphasizing  some  phases  of  the  life 
of  the  ranch,  plains  and  desert.    A  masterpiece. 
THE  BLAZED    TRAIL.  With  illustiations  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young 
man  who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  of  the  Mich 
igan  pines. 
THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS.    A  Romance. 

The  tenderfoot  manager  of  a  mine  in  a  lonesome  gulch  of  the 
Black  Hills  has  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  "wins  out"  in  more  ways  than 
one. 
CONJUROR'S     HOUSE.    Illustrated  Theatrical  Edition. 

Dramatized  under   the     title   of  "The    Call  of    the    North.1" 

"Conjuror's  House  is  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post  where  the 
head  factor  is  the  absolute  lord.    A  young  fellow  risked  his  life  and 
won  a  bride  on  this  forbidden  land. 
THE  MAGIC   FOREST.    A  Modern  Fairy  Tale.    Illustrated. 

The  sympathetic  way  in  which  the  children  of  the  wild  and 
their  life  is  treated  could  only  belong  to  one  who  is  in  love  with  the 
forest  and  open  air.    Based  on  fact 
THE  RIVERMAN.    Illus.  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  C.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  fight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle 
between  honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  side,  and  dishonesty  and 
shrewdness  on  the  other. 
THE  SILENT  PLACES.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin. 

The  wonders  of  the  northern  forests,  the  heights  of  feminine 
devotion,  and   masculine  power,  the  intelligence  of  the   Caucasian 
and  the  instinct  of  the  Indian,  are  all  finely  drawn  in  this  story. 
THE  WESTERNERS. 

A  story  of  the  Black  Hills  that  is  justly  placed  among  the 
Dest  American  novels.  It  portrays  the  life  of  the  new  West  as  nc 
jther  book  has  done  in  recent  years. 

PHE     MYSTERY.  In  collaboration  with  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams 
With  illustrations  by  Will  Crawford. 

The  disappearance  of  three  successive  crews  from  the  stouv1 
ship  "Laughing  Lass"  in  mid-Pacific,  is  a  mystery  weird  and  inscrut 
able.  In  the  solution,  there  is  a  story  of  the  most  exciting  voyagt 
that  man  ever  undertook. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

WINSTON  CHURCHILL 

Skillful  in  plot,    dramatic  in    episode,    powerful  and  original  in  climax^ 

MR.  CREWE'S  CAREER.  Illus.  by  A.I.  Keller  and  Kinneys, 

A  New  England  state  is  under  the  political  domination 
df  a  railway  and  Mr.  Crewe,  a  millionaire,  seizes  the  moment 
when  the  cause  of  the  people  against  corporation  greed  is 
being  espoused  by  an  ardent  young  attorney,  to  further  his 
own  interest  in  a  political  way,  by  taking  up  this  cause. 

The  daughter  of  the  railway  president,  with  the  sunny 
humor  and  shrewd  common  sense  of  the  New  England  girlt 
plays  no  small  part  in  the  situation  as  well  as  in  the  life  of  the 
young  attorney  who  stands  so  unflinchingly  for  clean  politics 
THE  CROSSING.  Illus.  by  S.  Adamson  and  L.  Baylis. 

Describing  the  battle  of  Fort  Moultrie  and  the  British 
fleet  in  the  harbor  of  Charleston,  the  blazing  of  the  Kentucky 
wilderness,  the  expedition  of  Clark  and  his  handful  of  daunt 
less  foHowers  in  Illinois,  the  beginning  of  civilization  along 
she  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  and  the  treasonable  schemes  builded 
against  Washington  and  the  Federal  Government. 
CONISTON.  Illustrated  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

A  deft  blending  0f  love  and  politics  distinguishes  this 
*x>ok.  The  author  has  taken  for  his  hero  a  New  Englandei, 
a  crude  man  of  the  tannery,  who  rose  to  political  prominence 
by  his  own  powers,  and  then  surrendered  all  for  the  love  of  a 
woman. 

It  is  a  sermon  on  civic  righteousness,  and  a  love  story  of  a 
deep  motive. 
THE  CELEBRITY.    An  Episode. 

An  inimitable  bit  of  comedy  describing  an  interchai  ge  of 
personalities  between  a  celebrated  author  and  a  bicycle  sales 
man  of  the  most  blatant  type.  The  story  is  adornecf  with 
some  character  sketches  more  living  than  pen  work.  I  Ms  the 
purest,  keenest  fun — no  such  piece  of  humor  has  appeared  for 
years :  it  is  American  to  the  core. 
THE  CRISIS.  Illus.  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 

A  book  that  presents  the  gTeat  crisis  in  our  national  life 
with  splendid  power  and  with  a  sympathy,  a  sincerity,  and  a 
patriotism  that  are  inspiring.  The  several  scenes  in  th«e  book 
in  which  Abraham  Lincoln  figures  must  be  read  in  their  en 
tirety  for  they  give  a  picture  of  that  great,  magnetic,  iovabie 
man,  which  has  been  drawn  with  evident  affection  and  excep 
tional  success. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26rn  ST.,  NEW  YORK, 


LOUIS  TRACY'S 

CAPTIVATING  AND  EXHILARATING  ROMANCES 


May  be  nad  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

fe 


CYNTHIA'S     C H AU  FFEU R.  Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandle; 
Chiisty. 

A  pretty  American  girl  in  London  is  touring  in  a  car  with 
a  chauffeur  whose  identity  puzzles  her.  An  amusing  mystery. 

THE    STOWAWAY    GIRL.      Illustrated  by  Nesbitt  Benson. 

A  shipwreck,  a  lovely  girl  stowaway,  a  rascally  captain,  a 
fascinating  officer,  and  thrilling  adventures  in  South  Seas. 

THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  KANSAS. 

Love  and  the  salt  sea,  a  helpless  ship  whirled  into  the  hands 
of  cannibals,  desperate  fighting  and  a  tender  romance. 

THE     MESSAGE.    Illustrated  by  Joseph  Cummings  Chase. 

A  bit  of  parchment  found  in  the  figurehead  of  an  old  ves 
sel  tells  of  a  buried  treasure.  A  thrilling  mystery  develops. 

THE  PILLAR  OF  LIGHT. 

The  pillar  thus  designated  was  a  lighthouse,  and  the  author 
tells  with  exciting  detail  the  terrible  dilemma  of  its  cut-off  in 
habitants. 


THE    WHEEL    O'FORTUNE.     With   illustrations   by  Ji 
Montgomery  Flagg. 

The  story  deals  with  the  finding  of  a  papyrus  containing 
the  particulars  of  some  of  the  treasures  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 

A    SON  OF    THE   IMMORTALS.       Illustrated     by    Howard 
Chandler  Christy. 

A  young  American  is  proclaimed  king  of  a  little  Balkan 
Kingdom,  and  a  pretty  Parisian  art  student  is  the  power  behind 
the  throne. 

THE    WINGS    OF  THE  MORNING. 

A  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe  redivivus  with  modern  setting} 
and  a  very  pretty  love  story  added.  The  hero  and  heroine,  art 
the  only  survivors  of  a  wreck,  and  have  many  thrilling  adventures 
on  their  desert  island. 

A.sk  for  complete  free  Jist  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


'955  t(, 


MAR  2  7  1959 


REC'D  LD 

OCT13'65-12;M 


.   .         '^ 


>.  10  1SSO 


OCT  0  5  7980 


1ISfi 


W  1  K 


RECEIVED  BY 

<>*» 0^1980 

CiSCULATION  DEPT. 


,912813 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


